Kirk James T Kirk
by T'Key'la
Summary: Modern Day AU: To the world at large, Jim Kirk is a best selling author. He also has a secret life, one that involves mystery and intrigue and doing things you wouldn't want your mother to know about. Now with 100% more K/S!
1. Phaser for Hire

_A spy, like a writer, lives outside the mainstream population. He steals his experience through bribes and reconstructs it. ~ _John Le Carre

* * *

"This is Jim Kirk," he said when he finally answered the insistent phone.

"Please hold, Mr. Kirk," the voice on the other end said. He knew it was his publishing company and as much as he wanted to, he couldn't just hang up and pretend they weren't calling.

"Mr. Kirk," a smooth voice said on the other end. "This is Spock Shi'Kahr. I am your new representative with House Net'no'kwa."

"What happened to Marjorie? She's been my representative for 10 plus years."

"Ten years, four months, and 12 days, to be precise."

"Okay," Mr. Kirk acknowledged. "Why are you calling me?"

"Madame Kel'pol retired…suddenly. I am your representative now."

"Marjorie retired suddenly?" Jim repeated. "Out of the blue without even telling me?"

"The publishing business is extremely competitive, as you know. Decisions were made. Changes instituted."

"I see, Mr. Shi'Kahr," Jim said although he did not see at all. Next up would be a phone call to Marjorie to see what really happened.

"Spock," the voice on the other end said.

"What?"

"You may call me Mr. Spock. Shi'Kahr is not a name as much as a designation," Mr. Spock explained.

"Oh. Yeah. Vulcans don't really use last names," Jim said.

There was a pause on the other end before Mr. Spock spoke up, finally. "How is it you know I am Vulcan?"

"The way you talk. That you don't use contractions. You sound Vulcan," Jim said.

"How, precisely, does one sound 'Vulcan', Mr. Kirk?"

"That's hardly important," Jim told him. "Why are you calling me?"

"Your latest draft was due yesterday. It has not yet been received," Mr. Spock said, sounding vaguely smug about it.

"That's strange. Since I overnighted it on Tuesday and they confirmed they had delivered it on Wednesday. Maybe Marjorie has it," Jim told him.

"It was delivered Wednesday?" Mr. Spock repeated.

"Yeah. Do you want me to forward you the confirmation?"

"That would be helpful. I can then attempt to track down the missing package."

"Alright. Give me your email address." Mr. Spock provided it and Jim used it to forward the confirmation. "I've sent it. Let me know when you find it," Jim said, his part of the conversation concluded as far as he was concerned.

"Why do you not simply email your drafts to us?" Mr. Spock asked, that edge of superiority returning.

"Marjorie wanted it printed out. As I didn't know she was no longer my editor, I had no idea that things had changed," Jim reminded him.

"True. Would you be willing to email me a copy?"

"I suppose I could. Makes me a little nervous though, to be honest."

"It does?" Mr. Spock asked.

"Too easy to intercept it. Too easy for it to become public," Jim said.

"I see," Mr. Spock responded. "Very well. I will find the missing package and call you to confirm that I have it. When can you come to discuss the necessary revisions?"

"How do you know there will be any revisions necessary?" Jim asked, trying very hard not to laugh at the condescension in the other man's voice.

"Revisions are always required, Mr. Kirk. Even with a writer as renowned as you."

"Thanks. Call me when you've found it. We'll discuss the next steps then," Jim suggested.

"Very well," Mr. Spock conceded. "I will call you when the draft is in my hands."

"Fine. I'm looking forward to it," Jim lied, hanging up before Mr. Spock had the opportunity to say anything else. He immediately dialed Marjorie's cell phone, relieved when she answered right away. "What the hell, Marjorie?"

"Hello, Jim. Good to hear your voice too," she responded.

"What the hell?" he repeated, looking out the window of his kitchen, as always mesmerized by the view of the ocean below. "Did you just up and quit?"

"Of course not, darling. New ownership. New way of doing things."

"Do you still work there?" Jim asked, frowning at the phone.

"Not for much longer. I was given a lovely retirement package. You know I was ready to leave on my own," she reminded him.

"I know. But still. Who is this Spock that claims to be my representative now? How high is the stick up his ass?"

Marjorie laughed at his description and he could imagine the sparkle in her black eyes. "Oh my dear. He's the son of the new owner. He wouldn't allow anyone else to contact you. Insisted he do it personally. He won't be taking on many writers but you were a non-negotiable."

"Great. He wanted me to email my draft to him. Think it's safe?" Jim asked because Marjorie would tell him the truth. She always had.

"Yes, love, it's safe. And when this one is on the shelf, you'll do Oprah, right?" Marjorie said in her patented persuasive voice.

"Margie," he responded. "You know how I feel about that whole press tour crap. And what do I need the publicity for?"

"The reading public is fickle, darling. They need to see your pretty face. To remember the genius behind the words. Stephen King does it. You can too."

"He hates it as much as I do," Jim sighed.

"Of course he does. Everyone does. That doesn't mean you can skip doing the publicity. And don't compare yourself to Stephen. Your novels are not pulp."

"I'm sure he'd appreciate you not calling his that," Jim laughed. "And you brought him up. Not me."

"True," she admitted with a light laugh. "It's going to be fine, darling. You have my promise."

"Are you okay, Margie? You've been doing this…for a long time."

"I'm fine, Jimmy. I was a little worried at first. But now all I can think of is going to Tuscany and eating pasta," she admitted. "And might I add that if you actually read the paper once in a while, you'd know that this had happened."

"That's so provincial," Jim laughed. "If it's really important, you or Bones tells me."

"How is the good Doctor?" she asked.

"Grumpy as ever. He should be home soon. Will you come to dinner before you go to Italy?"

"Of course I will. Just tell me when and I'll be there," she assured him.

"I'll talk to Bones and let you know," he agreed.

"Please do," she said. "And call me if you need anything."

"You too," Jim said, hanging up after their final good byes. He didn't have much time to consider the conversation or continue to enjoy the view when he heard the front door open.

"Honey I'm home," Bones called as he always did.

"Hey," Jim said, standing in the foyer to greet him.

Bones frowned when he saw that Jim was still in his flannel plaid pajamas, his hair unwashed, his feet bare. "When did you get up?"

"Right after you left," Jim shrugged, going back into the kitchen, Bones following. "But I didn't have anything pressing to do. How was your day?"

"Fine. Not crazy busy which was a delightful change. You made dinner," Bones said in surprise when he entered the kitchen to be greeted with the delicious smell of lasagna cooling on the stove top.

"I'm not an utter slacker," Jim said with a laugh, giving Bones his glass of bourbon, neat.

"I never meant to imply that you are," Bones assured him.

"Did you know that Net'no'kwa changed ownership?" Jim asked as he worked on the salad that would have been done if not for the phone calls.

"I had heard. It wasn't in the news. They call?"

"I'm no longer represented by Marjorie. I am the responsibility of the owner's son. Spock," Jim said.

"Hmm… I don't think I know him. How'd you find this out?" Bones asked, reaching over for a black olive and getting his hand slapped for his efforts.

"This Spock called and told me he hadn't gotten the draft."

"The one I overnighted for you?" Bones asked, one eyebrow raised.

"That one. I forwarded him the confirmation. He said he'd call when he finds it. So then I called Marjorie. She was given a generous retirement. She's going to Tuscany."

"Good for her. You going with her? Help her settle in?"

"I don't have any plans to," Jim said with a shrug. "Pike didn't call."

"I was sure he would today. Well. He will when he's ready," Bones said.

"He always does. You going out with Nyota tomorrow night?"

"Yeah. I have tickets to the opera. My tuxedo here?"

"I picked it up yesterday," Jim said.

"Good. Glad I have you for my bitch," Bones laughed.

"Except this is my house. Shouldn't you be the one doing the errands?" Jim asked, engaging in their favorite argument.

"You begged me to live with you. Begged. You were so pitiful I couldn't possibly refuse."

"That's not the way I remember it," Jim said, setting the table. "As I recall, you were homeless and desperate."

"I'm a doctor, dammit. I had a very nice apartment," Bones said, making Jim laugh.

"Where you _never_ slept. Why I bought a house this close to the hospital I'll never understand."

"So you don't have to be without my charm," Bones reminded him, putting the salad on the table.

"I'm always without your charm. You got no charm."

"Nyota would argue with that," Bones said far too smugly.

"Sure. If you marry her, are you leaving me?" Jim asked as he sliced into the lasagna.

"Sure am. You'll have to find someone else to sleep in my room."

"Hmm…." Jim turned to Bones with bright, smiling blue eyes. "So you _are_ planning to marry her."

"Shut up and give me some lasagna," Bones said, holding his plate close to the bubbling pan.

Jim laughed and served the pasta before sitting with Bones at the table.

"Are you putting on clothes tomorrow?" Bones asked as he enjoyed the garlic bread.

"Maybe. Why? When did my dressing habits become a concern?"

"I know you always crash when you finish writing. I don't want it to be too long or too deep," McCoy said in sincere concern.

"I'm fine," Jim assured him. "I got up at 7:30. I puttered around. I watered the plants. I made lasagna."

"True," McCoy agreed. "Excellent lasagna."

"Thanks. I saw it on Food Planet. Stephen King was making it."

"Well. There you go then. No human body parts, right?"

"Not this time," Jim assured him. He went over to the phone when it rang, looking at the display.

"Who is it?" Bones asked, studying Jim's face.

"Spock."

"Then answer it," Bones advised firmly. He accepted the still ringing phone from Jim with a frown, turning it on. "Hello?"

"May I speak with Mr. Kirk, please?" the voice on the other end said.

"He's currently unavailable. May I have him return your call?" Bones asked, sounding for all the world like a personal assistant rather than a world renowned surgeon.

"If you would ask him to call me at his convenience, I would appreciate it," Spock responded.

"Certainly. If I could have your name and number, I'll give the information to Mr. Kirk." Bones frowned at Jim who could barely contain his laughter. When he continued to laugh, Bones resorted to flipping him the bird.

Spock provided the information, facts which Bones did not write down but confirmed he would give to Mr. Kirk as soon as was convenient.

"How long are you going to make him wait?" Bones asked when they resumed eating.

Jim shrugged at that. "No idea. Tomorrow maybe. He's very sure of himself."

"He is," Bones agreed. "Is Hikaru coming tomorrow? Because he will keep calling until he reaches you."

"Yeah, he's coming. He'll probably drag poor Pavel with him," Jim laughed.

"Pavel does not have to be dragged anywhere if Hikaru is there," Bones reminded him. "God they are sickening."

"Young love," Jim said, laughing at his friend. "Everybody thinks we were like that, once."

"Yeah," Bones said with a shrug. "The idea of nonsexual love seems lost on the masses."

"Apparently," Jim agreed. "I don't know why we don't have sex. We are two of the hottest men alive."

"Because we don't love each other like that, stupid. And you aren't all that hot, frankly."

"I have a list of people who would disagree with that assessment," Jim assured him, laughing when Bones scowled at him.

"Because you are a fame whore."

"I most certainly am not. I'm a whore. But not for the fame. I get that through my brilliant writing."

"Brilliant, huh? You been reading your press clippings again?"

"Nope. I know quality when I write it," Jim said with his most charming smile.

"You are delusional. You know that, right?" Bones asked, picking up the ringing phone to check the display. He handed it to Jim. "Hikaru."

"Hey," Jim said in greeting.

"You're having dinner, aren't you?" Hikaru said in realization.

"Yeah. It's fine. What's up?"

"Not much. It's okay if Pavel comes with me tomorrow, right?"

"Absolutely. As long as you promise not to have sex in my bed," Jim said.

"You know we use the guest room," Hikaru laughed.

"True. Bones wants to make sure you also don't use his bed."

"Oh God, Jim. Never. That's just gross."

"And using my bed isn't?" Jim asked between bites of salad.

"I change the sheets when we're done," Hikaru said, still laughing. "Did you know that the House changed hands?"

"The new owner's son called me. He's my rep now."

"Where's Marjorie?" Hikaru asked.

"Retiring. Going to Tuscany," Jim said.

"Forever?"

"I don't know. It didn't come up if she was coming back. We'll have a dinner party for her before she leaves. You can decide when tomorrow."

"Sure," Hikaru agreed. "You need anything before I come?"

"I don't think so. You'll be here about 8?"

"8:30ish," Hikaru said, making Jim laugh.

"I am such a stickler," Jim responded.

"Totally. I'll run by Krispy Kreme on my way in. Make up for being late."

"That's a deal," Jim agreed. "You need me for anything else?"

"Nope. Thanks."

"You're welcome," Jim said, hanging up after their goodbyes.

"Pavel's coming?" Bones asked.

"Yeah. I'm sure he'll be doing his physics homework the entire time he's here. Hikaru is very good for him. Can you imagine what he'd be like without Sulu's bad influence?"

"I shudder to think," Bones said, shaking his head. "You geniuses all cluster, don't you?"

"Why is this second person? Like you aren't one in your own right," Jim reminded him.

Bones shrugged at that. "Not on the same level."

"Because you didn't finish medical school at 25 or anything," Jim said.

"Whatever. Did you make dessert?"

"How can you possibly want dessert?" Jim asked.

"Did you make it or not?"

"Of course. The cannoli cream's in the frig. The shells are on top," Jim said, finishing his salad.

"Top of the frig?" Bones repeated, looking at Jim as though he'd lost his mind – completely this time.

Jim shrugged. "I thought Hikaru might come with Shep."

"Didn't we talk about that?" Bones asked rhetorically. "We don't want dogs in our house."

"_You_ don't want dogs in our house," Jim corrected. "I want dogs in our house."

"No," Bones said, gathering the plates and putting them in the dishwasher.

"One day you'll be dead and I'll have dogs."

"Fine. They can pee on my grave," Bones said, getting the cream out of the refrigerator.

"So will I," Jim said, watching him fill 2 of the canoli shells with the rich cream.

"And I will return to haunt you and make you impotent."

"I'm already Im-po-tent," Jim laughed.

"You aren't that important. Delusional, yes."

"I really can't understand why you are so mean to me. Seriously."

"You want the unabridged edition?" Bones asked.

"Shut up," Jim finally said. "Have you talked to Scotty lately?"

"Not this week," Bones said, considering it. "Is he out on assignment?"

"I don't think so," Jim said, picking up the phone to dial it. There was no answer so he shrugged and returned it to its stand. "Maybe he is out."

"Can't Pike keep you updated? What if you need him?"

"Pike will know where he is. I don't need him right now," Jim pointed out.

"But you could tomorrow. Or tonight. Or in 5 minutes."

"Stop being such a worrywart. Nobody's trying to kill me."

"Not at this minute," Bones said, glancing away from the dishwasher to look over his shoulder at his best friend. "What about the report of the syndicate putting a price on your head?"

"Hogwash," Jim said, shaking his head. "I'm small potatoes to them."

"Not so small. Not after the Milano incident."

"That wasn't me. I told you that," Jim said in exasperation.

"Why is it you think you can lie to me? You were gone. The talks were disrupted. Three of the top cocaine bosses in the world are dead. And you didn't have anything to do with it?"

Jim simply looked back at him, his blue eyes clear and bright.

"Fine. Fine," Bones said in anger, slamming the dishwasher closed. "Fine."

"You said that three times now. Why are you so pissed all of the sudden?"

"Because Pike hasn't called. And you don't know where Scotty is. Your ass is hanging in the wind and I seem to be the only one who gives a shit."

"I'm fine. Call Pike if you're so worried," Jim said, taking his Pepsi into the living room which was not Bones' favorite place to sit. Too many windows he always claimed. But Jim loved the spectacular view of his beloved ocean. Growing up in Iowa meant he would never get enough of seeing oceans of water instead of corn.

"Yeah, it's me. He there?" Jim heard Bones ask on the phone as he sat in his favorite chair. Jim barely turned to look at him before returning his gaze to the windows, sipping his Pepsi. "Hey," Bones said, listening briefly. "He's fine. I'm not… where's Scotty?...oh. Alright… you sure?... okay…yes, I'll be sure to…Yeah, hold on just a sec." Bones extended the phone to Jim who automatically took it. Bones went to the open hearth in the center of the room, adding several logs to be consumed by the bright fire.

"Hey," Jim said to Pike. He could hear the older man's sigh in response.

"Why's he all up in arms?" Pike asked.

"It's his nature. He can't help it," Jim reminded him.

"Yeah, I know," Pike confirmed. "You free tomorrow?"

"I can be. Why?" Jim asked.

"I need you in St. Petersburg. Quick trip."

"Russia or Florida?" Jim laughed.

"Don't be a smart ass. Be at the air strip at 7:00 a.m."

"Okay. Bones can drop me off on his way to the hospital."

"Fine. We'll get you home in time for dinner," Pike promised.

"Alright. Who's the target?"

"It's an extraction. Please try not to get you or her killed. I'll email you the details."

"Is Scotty going?"

"He's flying you there. Do you want Hikaru to go with you?" Pike asked.

"Not unless I need him. He's coming over tomorrow. You let him know I'll be gone?"

"I haven't yet. I'll call right now. Wear a suit tomorrow. Navy. Pinstripes. Light pink tie."

"Okay. Did you know that the House was sold?" Jim asked

"I told you that last week. Do you ever listen?" Pike asked in exasperation.

"You most certainly did not," Jim said. "I'd remember if you did."

"Jim…" Pike said in his patented 'you are a continual disappointment to me' voice.

"Bones," Jim called, his friend putting down his padd to look up at him. "Chris said he told me last week that the House was sold. Is that true?"

"Don't think so. You'd have told me," Bones pointed out, returning to his reading.

"See," Jim said in satisfaction. "You didn't tell me."

"Fine. The new owners are old fashioned but not a bad lot. They call you?"

"Spock did. Son of the owner. Said he'd be my new rep."

"You could do worse. You meeting with him?" Pike asked.

"Soon. He called. Bones put him off. Hikaru can call tomorrow and make it day after."

"Day after tomorrow's Saturday," Bones informed him, not bothering to look up at him.

"Well. Monday then. We're going to have a dinner for Marjorie. Will you come?" Jim asked.

"Sure. Let me know when. You want me to call the House and explain why you won't be available until Monday?" Pike offered.

"Sure. Spock may as well get used to talking to you. He's a little stiff," Jim said with a laugh.

"You say the same thing about me," Pike reminded him.

"Because you are a lawyer. You can't help it," Jim said.

"Business representative and manager," Pike corrected. Jim could hear the smile in his voice.

"Of course. Lawyer is just a side trade."

"Naturally. Go read your email. Contact me tomorrow when you land."

"Will do. You want Bones again?"

"Sure," Pike agreed, telling Jim goodbye before Jim handed the phone to the Doctor.

Jim went into his study, taking his secure laptop out of the safe. He read over the assignment, not finding anything unusual in it. Go to St. Petersburg. Find and release the wife of the Prime Minister of Tajikistan. Bring her back for a reunion with her husband who may or may not be in exile. That part was a little unclear but not germane to the operation so he didn't much care. She was being held in a former safehouse, one Jim had visited before. On the river. Backed by woods. He and Scotty would be able to do it in short order and return her safely to American soil.

"How's it look?" Bones asked from where he was standing in the doorway.

"Straightforward. We'll be home for dinner."

"Don't say that. You'll be shot for sure," Bones reminded him.

"That's what I have you for," Jim said with a smile, going to the safe for his fake Russian passport.

"You sure you don't want Hikaru with you? Scotty doesn't speak Russian."

"Neither does Sulu. We'll be fine. When Pavel is finished, he'll be an asset. If he doesn't freak out with his first kill."

"You didn't. Sulu didn't. He'll be fine."

"You did," Jim reminded him fondly.

"I'm a doctor, dammit. I'm not supposed to _kill_ people."

"It's a wonder to me that you ever told Pike yes to start with," Jim said.

Bones shrugged at that, returning with Jim to the living room. "Didn't have anything to lose. I don't regret it. Glad I'm not still active. Unless you need me."

"I'm glad you aren't active either. Much rather have you home where I know you're safe," Jim said, settling in his recliner to read from his padd.

"Thanks," Bones laughed.

They settled into their evening routine like an old married couple. Pike always said they were the most nonsexually involved married pair he ever encountered. 'Have sex and get out of your system.' But they never have. Likely they never will if they haven't after all this time. They are too comfortable and too satisfied with their hetro-life-bond.

"You want me to pack for you?" Bones asked sometime later into the easy silence that had descended over them.

"Nah. I have everything I'll need in my backpack. Anything else I'm sure Scotty will have." Jim stood and stretched, the top of his pajamas riding up to reveal golden skin with faint pink scars standing out. "I'm going to go to bed. Wake me up in the morning?"

"Sure. Because I have nothing better to do than be your personal alarm clock," Bones complained because he always complained about it. Otherwise Jim would worry.

"Good night Dr. Cranky. I'll see you in the morning."

Bones snorted but watched Jim go down the hall to his bedroom. Not until his light was out and he knew Jim was safely in bed did Bones return his attention to his padd.


	2. Prime Minister of Tajikistan

_You get so used to lying that after a while it's hard to remember what the truth is._ ~Philip Agee

* * *

McCoy was in his bathroom trying to restore order to his thick black hair which he realized he should have had cut last week when he heard the front door open. He made his way down the hallway, stopping at the edge of the foyer. He wanted to be surprised that Jim and Scotty were there with a woman he didn't know. Not yet anyway. She had really green skin and tumbling red curls. An Orion from the looks of her. She was talking too rapidly and Bones couldn't quite figure out what she was saying.

"...don'tknowhowyoucan. It's justimpossible," she was saying breathlessly. She broke off abruptly when the two men focused on Bones.

"Hey," Bones said, trying for serious even though he was standing in only a towel around his waist. The woman stared at him as he stared at Jim. "What's happened?"

"Nothing," Jim lied, still leaning against Scotty, his tie missing, several rips visible in his suit jacket. Bones would have been closer to being convinced if there wasn't blood dripping from the end of the fingers on Jim's left hand. Blood that was staining the entryway rug spread over the marble tiles. A real oriental that Jim had gotten from one of the sheiks he had rescued several years ago.

"He's hurt," the woman said, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed a deeper green. "It was for me. He did it for me. He shouldn't have but he did."

"It's alright, lassie," Scotty said soothingly. He managed to pass Jim off to Bones who accepted his weight easily. Bones helped Jim into his suite and on into his bathroom, still warm from his shower.

"What happened?" Bones asked as he carefully peeled off Jim's wool overcoat. Jim gasped as he attempted to removed it from his left arm.

"Easy," Jim groaned, slapping away Bones' hands and taking the coat off himself. The left side of his suit jacket was soaked with blood, the white shirt underneath red with it. "It's not as bad as it looks."

"Which you always tell me. Never mind that you have nearly bled to death three times in the last two months."

"No I haven't," Jim said, gritting his teeth as Bones cut away his jacket and his shirt to expose the formerly pink tie wrapped around his upper arm. He carefully cut away the tie, exposing the gapping wound halfway down Jim's left arm.

Bones shook his head, studying the blood running down Jim's arm. "Gunshot?"

Jim smiled. More a grimace. "Knife."

Bones was skeptical, picking up the ruined shirt. It was sliced cleanly from underarm to elbow. "Who's the woman?" Bones asked as he reached into the back of the linen closet to open the fake wall, taking out his medical kit.

"The Prime Minister's wife."

"And she's here why exactly?" Bones asked. He was in the process of filling a syringe and Jim had to look away from that long, shining needle.

"Slight change of plans. He's coming here to meet up with her," Jim said, gasping when Bones plunged the needle into his arm just above the laceration. "Little warning."

"Stop being such a baby. You know I have to numb it," Bones said, carefully wiping away some of the blood to better see the wound. "Why didn't you drop her like Pike said?"

"We think we were made. We lost 'em on Elm."

"Great," Bones grumbled. "So I shouldn't come home tonight."

"Like you weren't going to stay over with Nyota," Jim said, looking at the deep cut on his arm. "Not as bad as I thought."

"Six stitches," Bones said.

"Four will do it," Jim countered.

"Now you're the doctor?" Bones asked, taking out his suturing kit. "Is Scotty taking …."

"Gaila," Jim supplied helpfully.

"Gaila to Pike's?"

"Hikaru is coming and bringing the Prime Minister. What do we have to eat?" Jim asked as Bones sewed him up.

"Lasagna's in the oven staying warm. I expected you an hour ago."

"Yeah," Jim said, listening. "Hikaru's here."

"Good. Scotty okay?"

"Fine. I'm the only one dinged. You want to meet Gaila before you leave?"

"Not really," Bones said, glancing over at the door as Scotty appeared with the very same Gaila who nearly vibrated with energy as she tried to stand still, her dark blue dress sparkling with what looked to be silver spider webs woven in.

"Oh Jimmy," Gaila was saying. "You _are_ hurt."

"It's okay, Gaila. I'll be good as new," Jim assured her. "This is my friend. Leonard," Jim said, nodding his head at Bones.

"Hello Leonard," she said with her overly bright smile. "It's nice of you to sew up Jimmy like that."

"I'm handy to have around," Bones agreed. "Scotty, can you get him some sweats?" Scotty agreed, leaving and returning very soon with a pair which Bones accepted after tying off the last suture. Despite Jim's protest, he gave him an injection of anti-biotics, Gaila gasping as the needle entered the flesh on Jim's arm.

Bones looked over at her before carefully removing the needle. "You okay?"

"Fine," she said faintly, leaning harder against the doorjamb.

Bones looked from her to Jim who was studying the stitches with slightly unnerving intensity. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Jim said, trying to focus on Bones. "I need a drink."

"I'm sure you do. And you can have it just as soon as I wrap this up," Bones said. He put a thick bandage around Jim's arm and helped him change into the sweats before passing him off to Scotty. "Now if y'all will excuse me, I have a date." After they were finally out of his bathroom, he put Jim's shirt, tie and suit into the chute to be incinerated the next morning. Handy feature to have. That done, he left his bathroom for his dressing room to finish getting ready, putting on his tuxedo. After making sure his shoes had a mirror shine, he went out into the living room to find Jim, Scotty, Hikaru, Gaila and a strange man whom he assumed to be the Prime Minister lounging around, drinking his best bourbon. He ignored the wolf whistles that greeted his appearance, staring holes in Jim. "Don't wait up," he said, pulling on his overcoat. He suffered patiently as Scotty untied and retied his bowtie, finally satisfied that it was perfect.

"I never do," Jim assured him, his legs over the arms of his armchair as he watched Scotty's efforts. He knew the man was a genius with machinery - but _bowties_? Gaila was sitting on the lap of the strange man, not noticing anything else going on as they kissed. Feverishly. Hungrily.

"They staying the night?" Bones asked, waving a casual hand at everyone else.

"Mmm…not sure. Maybe. Some will."

"Aye," Scotty said, saluting Bones with his glass. "Aye'll be sleepin' on Jim's floor."

"Fine," Bones said with a shrug.

"You want me to drive you?" Hikaru offered with a smile as he ate more lasagna.

"How much have you had to drink?" Bones asked, studying him closely.

"Nothing but Pepsi," Hikaru assured him, giving his plate to Jim who promptly finished his lasagna.

"Alright. I probably won't see you until tomorrow," Bones said, buttoning up his overcoat before going with Hikaru to the garage where the Mercedes waited.

"Why didn't Pike send me?" Hikaru asked Bones when they were in the large, comfortable car.

"I have no idea. I figured he would," Bones said, looking out his window. "Did he call the House?"

"Yeah. Apparently this Spock guy isn't pleased that Jim was incommunicado," Hikaru laughed.

"Better get used to it," Bones said with a shrug. "Even if he were home all the time, he wouldn't be at anyone's beck and call."

"Except Pike. And yours," Hikaru said with a smile.

"Yeah. Are you going to ask Pike why you got left behind?"

"Nah. It was apparently straight-forward. I guess they just didn't need me," Hikaru shrugged.

"I'd feel better if Scotty wasn't flying through Russian air space with no co-pilot."

"Jim co-piloted," Hikaru assured him.

"Over. Not back. He'd lost too much blood," Bones said, shaking his head.

"I'll work on the blood in the oriental," Hikaru promised.

"You staying over?" Bones asked.

"Yeah. It's easier than worrying all night."

"Pavel coming?" Bones asked as Hikaru drove up the long, curved drive to stop in front of Nyota's house.

"Not tonight. He's with his grandmother," Sulu said with a dramatic shudder.

"Okay. We'll be right back," Bones said, leaving the car to go up to the front door that opened as he approached. The tall, stoic butler looked at him before nodding. Bones disappeared inside, very quickly reemerging with the beautiful Nyota on his arm, wrapped up in a warm fur coat. She was laughing at something Bones had said.

"Hello beautiful," Hikaru said as Bones helped her into the roomy backseat.

"Oh no. What's happened?" Nyota said, looking over at Bones with wide eyes.

"Everyone's fine," Bones assured her. "Sulu was home and decided to drive us."

"Why do you lie to me, Leonard? When I know?"

He leaned closer and kissed her, his only answer and she knew better than to ask again. She shook her head, looking in his eyes to find the truth. "He's home and safe?"

"Yes. Scotty's staying over. Hikaru will too," Bones told her.

"How are we getting home from the opera?" she asked Bones.

"You'll call me and I'll come get you," Hikaru told her.

"Have you been here all day?" Nyota asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I've been at my house. Pavel was studying and I was trying out new recipes."

"Fine," Nyota said with a sigh.

"What do you know of House Net'no'kwa changing hands?" Bones asked her.

"It's owned now by Sarek. Smart. Hard negotiator. Nobody's fool," Nyota said.

"Neither are we," Bones reminded him.

"No you aren't," she agreed, leaning closer to him. "Why do you smell like blood and antiseptic?"

"No idea, darlin'," he lied easily, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You are looking especially beautiful this evening."

"You are such a flatterer," she laughed, easily allowing herself to be distracted from whatever had happened. She knew she'd learn the truth soon enough.

They chatted about inconsequential matters until Hikaru pulled up outside the Opera House, assuring them that he would come collect them as soon as they called.

"Thank you," Bones said before escorting Nyota up the steps and into the lobby where they disappeared into the crowd of society folks whom Bones detested but tolerated because they were the ones that controlled the real money in city.

~o0o~

When Nyota's butler drove him home the next morning, it wasn't much of a surprise that the table was filled to overflowing with food and guests. There was a gigantic breakfast casserole in the center, French toast piled high on a plate, two carafes of coffee, what looked to be home fries, and food he wasn't sure he could readily identify.

"Hey," Jim said, leaving the chair at the head of the table to properly greet Bones. "How was the opera?"

"Wonderful," Bones said as he went to his suite, Jim following behind. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired but otherwise fine," Jim assured him, hoisting himself on the vanity as Bones undressed, exchanging his tuxedo for jeans. "You want to check it?"

"After breakfast. Right before you go back to bed."

"I'm not going back to bed," Jim corrected. "I'm going to scrub all the toilets."

"No you aren't. You're going back to bed if I have to sedate you," Bones said, uselessly brushing his hair which was determined to fall back into his face.

"Why are you so mean to me?" Jim asked with a dramatic pout.

"You nearly bled to death yesterday, kid," Bones reminded him. "For the third time. There is nothing that needs to be done that can't wait until tomorrow. You need to give your body a chance to heal."

"Okay. Okay," Jim conceded. "Stop nagging."

Bones shook his head, leaving his suite, certain that Jim was following him. "You talk to Pike yesterday?"

"Yeah. He may be coming by tomorrow afternoon," Jim said, sitting back at the head of the table, accepting more casserole from Hikaru. Bones sat in the empty chair at the foot of the table, Pavel to his right who was speaking in Russian to the stranger on his left.

"I am Grigory. Prime Minister of Tajikistan. At least I was. I hope to be again soon one day," the large man said to Bones, his smile genuine and infectious. Gaila was sitting pressed close to him, so clearly happy to be back in his company.

"It's nice to meet you, Minister," Bones said, watching Pavel fill his cup with coffee. "Thanks."

"You have a beautiful home," Grigory said in admiration, looking at the huge dining room that flowed into the gleaming kitchen.

"Thank you," Bones said. "It's comfortable."

"I see this," Griory said. "You are generous to allow us to stay."

"Plenty of room," Bones said with a shrug. "How long will you be with us?"

"Only one hour more," the Minister said. "Then we will disappear once again."

Bones nodded at that, watching Jim who seemed mostly okay. His smile was bright even if his eyes were not quite as blue as they should be. He turned his attention to answering Pavel's question, between bites of French toast.

He continued to eat and talk, sipping from his cup before setting it down. He made his way to the opposite end of the table, staring down at Jim until he finally looked up to meet his friend's worried eyes.

"I think I have to be excused," Jim said reluctantly, carefully putting his napkin on the table. He delayed his exit as long as possible by speaking to each person at the table.

"_Now_ Jim," Bones said, his tone not to be refused.

Jim sighed and finally turned to follow the Doctor to his suite. He flopped down on his bed, frowning up at Bones. "I'm not four."

"Then stop acting like it. And take off your shirt," Bones said before disappearing briefly. When he returned he had his medical kit with him. Jim was bare to the waist as ordered, his left arm over his head to provide Bones the best possible access. "Does it hurt to do that?"

"Nope. You did your usual excellent job," Jim said with a smile, watching as Bones cut away the bandage. "How's it look?"

"Good," Bones said with a nod. He gently touched the stitches, nodding before taking a syringe out of his kit.

"Wait. What's that for?" Jim protested as Bones filled it from a small vial.

"Stop whining and roll over," Bones directed, pushing his hip to get him started.

"But what's it for?" Jim asked again as Bones pulled down the waist of his pajamas enough to expose his butt.

"Because I said so," Bones said, swabbing his skin before administering the injection, Jim gasping as the needle penetrated. "You can be shot and hardly flinch. You can nearly bleed to death and shrug it off. I give you an injection and you act like it's an insult to your manliness."

"I hate you," Jim said, pulling up his pajama bottoms and worming under the covers. "You know that, right?"

"Shut up and go to sleep," Bones said, stroking his hair as Jim's eyes got heavy.

"You sedated me," Jim protested.

"Only way I can be sure you'll actually rest," Bones said, going to the window to pull the shade. "You want me to stay?"

"For a minute?" Jim requested, curling up on his right side facing Bones. "Tell me about the opera."

Bones pulled the blankets higher, making sure his bare shoulders were covered, then told him about the opera, who was there, who they spoke with, the somewhat odd, modern interpretation the conductor and choreographer had chosen. It wasn't long before Jim was sound asleep and Bones slipped out of his room, leaving the door open in case Jim needed him.


	3. Xiawoun of Hong Kong

_I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure. _~ Clarence Darrow

* * *

Pike rang the bell and waited less than a minute before Hikaru opened the door to admit him.

"Hi ya," Hikaru said in his usual cheerful manner. He was dressed in jeans and a dark blue sweater, frayed at the cuffs and neck. Chris thought it might actually be Jim's sweater but gave it no more thought as Sulu moved aside to allow him to enter the toasty house.

"Sulu," Pike said with a nod. "How are you?"

"Great. Couldn't be better," Sulu assured him, leading him across the foyer and into the living room. Jim was laying on the couch in jeans and a tattered sweatshirt, watching the fire dance. Leonard was in his favorite chair with his favorite drink, apparently watching Jim but Chris was pretty sure his eyes weren't entirely focused. Pavel was bent over his padd, studying it with near ferocious intensity. He didn't even look up when Hikaru sat back down beside him. There was faint banging coming from somewhere in the back of the house – Scotty no doubt.

"Hey Chris," Leonard said, looking up at him as Pike entered further into the living room. "What's new?"

"Not a whole hell of a lot. How are you feeling?" he asked Jim, standing next to the couch to look down at him. He thought Jim looked a little pale but no worse for the wear for the most part.

"Fine. Ready for the marathon next week," Jim joked.

"There are no marathons here in December," Pike informed him, shaking his head. "What is Scotty doing?"

"Increasing the efficiency of the heat pump. I think," Leonard said with a shrug. "Who can say for sure?"

"True. Pavel," Chris said to the younger man who had not yet looked up.

"Oh hello Mr. Pike. I am wery sorry. I have much vork to be doing." Chekov stood up to tell Pike this, Chris laughing at his eagerness.

"As you were, Pavel," Chris said, moving to sit in the vacant armchair. "Thanks for getting Gaila out."

Jim shrugged at that. "Not a big deal. Her husband was thrilled. I'm pretty sure she didn't stop talking the entire trip home."

"That's Gaila," Chris agreed. "Grigory complained about the quiet. Now I see why."

"Yeah," Jim said.

"Why didn't you send me with them?" Sulu asked casually, still looking at Chekov's padd.

"I didn't think he'd find a way to hurt himself this time," Chris laughed. "Next time for sure."

"I'd prefer it," Leonard said. "Scotty had no shuttle co-pilot on the trip home. With Jim losing so much blood."

"I was fine. Scotty was fine," Jim protested.

"Next time. I promise. So I talked to Spock. And Sarek," Chris told Jim, everyone listening in, naturally.

"You explain that Jim would call once he got around to it?" McCoy asked.

"Pretty much. Don't think they are too pleased. But if they want to continue to be your publisher, I made it clear they would have to accept you on _your_ terms. Since they are Vulcans, they won't openly complain."

"What'd they say?" Jim asked, clear he didn't particularly care.

"They aren't going to risk losing one of the most popular writers. If they can't reach you, they agreed to call me," Chris told him.

"Good. I guess they want me to come in and 'discuss the necessary revisions'."

"Something like that. I told them I would pass on their request," Chris said with a shrug. "You have any more of that?" he asked Leonard who was enjoying his drink.

"'Course."

"I'll get it," Sulu said, going into the kitchen, Chekov following close behind.

"Good thing you chose an open floor plan," Pike laughed. "Or we'd never see them again."

"We can hear you," Sulu called from the kitchen where they had managed to disappear into the pantry. The pantry where the bourbon was most definitely _not_ stored.

"Please bring my drink before you get too distracted," Chris called back.

"Yes sir. Right away sir," Sulu said, not appearing.

Chris had to shake his head, laughing. He went into the kitchen himself, returning with a glass and the decanter, refilling Leonard's glass on his way back to his chair. "When's dinner? We won't see them again until they get hungry."

"I have no idea. Hikaru's in charge. Now we'll never get to eat," Jim said.

"I think he's making stir fry," Leonard suggested. "Surely we can do it ourselves."

"Not me. I'm still recovering," Jim claimed.

"So you're healed enough to run a marathon and scrub all the toilets. But you can't stir fry some chicken?" Leonard asked.

"Something like that," Jim agreed with a charming smile.

"You are a real head-case," Leonard responded.

"Have I ever denied it?"

"It would be pointless," Leonard agreed.

"We're having dinner for Marjorie on Saturday," Jim told Chris. "You can come, right?"

"Absolutely. You want me to bring some wine?"

"That would be great. Then we wouldn't have to drink that swill Jim always buys," Bones grumbled.

"It's not swill," Jim protested. "I'm a world famous writer. I can afford the good stuff."

"Afford it yes. Buy it no," McCoy said. "We did get the vodka the Prime Minister sent us. Now that is prime."

"Even though it was vodka?" Pike laughed. "I thought you were a one-drink man."

"Jim made martinis out of it."

"Shaken not stirred?" Chris asked, smiling at the younger man.

"Absolutely," Jim agreed. "Did the Vulcans have anything else to say? Even if they don't complain."

"You are one of the main reasons they were interested in acquiring the House. You and Harrid-Shar."

"No way," Jim said with a laugh. "They bought it so they could have access to Orion porn?"

"It's not porn. It's historical romance," Chris said, unable to contain his laughter.

"It's porn," McCoy said. "Sex. Porn. Sex and more porn."

"And you know this from …the covers?" Chris asked.

"Of course. Or I accidentally saw the descriptions on Amazon. You know. When I was… browsing. To see how cheap Jim's books have gotten."

"Sure. Of course," Chris said, watching Hikaru and Pavel return from the depths of the kitchen empty handed. "Are you making dinner?"

"Yep," Sulu agreed. "What time is it?"

"Nearly 5," McCoy said. "You making stir fry?"

"We were planning to. So we don't need to start just yet," Sulu said.

"No," Leonard agreed, watching Scotty come in through the patio door. "You finished making all that racket?"

"Sure am," Scotty said with a smile. "Hi Chris."

"Scotty," Chris said in greeting. "New efficient rating for the heat pump?"

"Absolutely," Scotty agreed. "Humming like brand new."

"It is brand new," Chris said with a laugh.

Scotty shrugged, pouring himself a stiff drink before looking down at Jim. "How long has he been asleep?"

"I'm not asleep," Jim said, his eyes still closed.

Scotty snorted at him, putting the afghan over him before moving to the fireplace to put on extra logs. "You aren't watching the American football game?"

"It was on earlier. But it got boring. The next one's started if you want to turn it back on," Leonard said, handing Scotty the remote. "After dinner. Or tomorrow. Would you check the heater on the pool? I swear it doesn't keep it warm enough."

"Of course I will," Scotty agreed. "Tomorrow first thing."

"Thanks," Leonard said. "Jim, do you need to go to bed?"

"Nope. I'm just fine," Jim assured him. He grumbled when Bones moved to sit on the couch next to him, his palm resting on his forehead. "I'm fine. Stop being a mother hen."

"You feel warm. I'll get the thermometer," Bones said with a frown before disappearing into his suite.

"Do you have a fever?" Chris asked, alternating between watching the football game and Jim.

"No. He gets like this every time I'm hurt," Jim said with a shrug. He automatically opened his mouth to accept the thermometer, understanding the utter futility of refusing. Bones took his pulse as they waited, nodding and removing the thermometer. "Well?"

"It's a degree high. Nothing out of the ordinary when you've been hurt," Bones said. "I'll get you some aspirin."

"Thanks," Jim said, looking over at Chris who was watching him. "He can't help it."

"I know," Chris agreed with an affectionate smile.

Jim accepted the aspirin without complaint, washing it down with his Pepsi.

"Is Nyota coming for dinner?" Pike asked McCoy when he was settled back in his chair.

"Not tonight. She has to attend some gala," Leonard said with a shrug.

"And she didn't drag you along?" Chris laughed.

"Not this time. It's a woman's empowerment thing. Said I didn't qualify."

"Just as well," Chris said in sympathy.

"Yeah. Jim made a sizeable donation," Leonard assured him.

"I did?"

"Yep. Very generous of you," Leonard said, saluting him with his glass.

"I'm very generous. Apparently," Jim said, the others laughing at him.

"You told me to put him on your accounts," Chris reminded him. "You're sorry now, aren't you?"

"God yes. Take him off, okay?" Jim requested.

"Can't. Too late," Chris said with a shrug.

"Some lawyer you are," Jim huffed.

"I am an excellent lawyer," Chris reminded him. "The best in town."

"Yeah but it's a small town," Jim retorted.

"Hmm…when did you become such a smart ass?" Chris asked, barely able to stop from laughing.

"You don't really want him to answer that, do you?" Leonard asked.

"Probably not," Chris agreed, turning to look over at Pavel and Hikaru who were still intently studying Pavel's padd. "So Pavel."

"Yes sir?" Chekov responded right away, looking at Pike with wide eyes.

"Do you want to be certified next week?"

"Really? I can get my credentials?" Pavel asked, all enthusiastic energy.

"I think it's time," Chris said with a nod. "Do you want to go out with Scotty?"

"Absolutely," Pavel agreed with a nod. "Yes sir. What day?"

"Aye'll be going out Tuesday," Scotty told him. "Be back Wednesday."

"Can Hikaru come as vell?" Pavel asked.

"Not this time," Pike said. "I'd send you with Jim but he's out of commission for the next week."

"You don't need to put me on the shelf," Jim protested. "It's just a scratch."

"That needed six stitches," Leonard added.

"It's only for five days, Jim," Pike said, shaking his head. "It's not a complicated job."

"Who's the target?" Sulu asked, feeling a swelling of pride that Chekov was about to make his first kill.

"Xiawoun," Pike said.

"Kingpin of Hong Kong?" Leonard asked. "Isn't he a little big for Pavel's first?"

"The sharks are already circling. We'll be doing him a favor," Pike said.

"Then Karu should come," Pavel said in request.

"I don't speak Chinese, Pav," Sulu reminded him fondly.

"No. But you will be fitting in. Scotty and I. Ve vill be sticking out like the thumb that's sore."

"We don't all look alike," Sulu laughed.

"No," Pavel agreed with a bright smile. "You are much more handsome than anyone else."

"Thanks," Sulu laughed again.

"So back to the assignment," Pike suggested, Sulu and Chekov looking only slightly guilty that they had gotten distracted.

"Yes sir," Pavel said with a nod.

"You're leaving at 13:00?" Pike asked Scotty.

"Aye, that we are. I plan to have us back by 21:00 on Wednesday."

"Da," Pavel said.

"Do you have any finals on Wednesday?" Sulu asked him.

"No, Karu. Monday is only day. Then I am done for the Christmas."

"Already?" Leonard asked. "It's 3 weeks to Christmas."

"Da. Exams last veek. Only one next veek," Pavel explained.

"Three weeks?" Jim asked. "So I still have time to do my shopping?"

"You have never gone Christmas shopping in your entire pathetic life," Bones informed him.

"I most certainly have," Jim retorted. "I give Chris a lovely gift every year."

"You write me a check," Chris corrected with a laugh. "Which I promptly donate to the charity of my choice."

"I get a check too," Hikaru agreed.

"Me too," Scotty piped up.

"Why does he give you one?" Bones asked Scotty.

"Services rendered," Scotty said with a shrug.

"Does he write you a check?" Pike asked Bones with a laugh.

"No. He usually tells me he doesn't believe in Christmas. Too commercial," Bones said.

"Yet he told me to go tomorrow and get a tree," Hikaru laughed.

"I'm right here," Jim said in a lazy, unconcerned voice.

"Go to sleep so we can talk about you in peace," Bones requested. "Are you getting an 8 foot tree?"

"I had planned to. Frasier fir?"

"Good," Leonard agreed. "Can you go to the attic tomorrow and bring down the ornaments? I'd rather not have Jim up there."

"Sure. I'll take care of it," Sulu assured him.

"Come to my office tomorrow after your exam," Pike was saying to Chekov. "I'll get you all the documentation you need. And you can choose your weapon."

"I get to pick?" Chekov said sounding like a child being offered the chance to choose as many puppies to take home as he wanted.

"Certainly," Chris said patiently. "Jim prefers ballistics. Leonard only uses knives if he can help it."

"I can pick a phaser?"

"Of course," Chris agreed with a smile. "And a gun if you want."

"What did you use, sir?" Pavel asked him, barely able to contain his growing excitement.

"I carried a phaser for the most part."

"That was what you used to make your kills?" Pavel asked.

"It would have been. Had I ever actually killed anyone."

Despite what Chris had believed, Pavel's eyes did grow bigger, his excitement more evident at those words. "You never killed?"

"No Pavel. I never killed anyone," Chris said, a small smile threatening to break out. "When I entered, it wasn't a requirement. When that changed, I wasn't required to requalify."

"I vas unaware," Pavel said, staring at Chris.

"I'm capable of it," Chris told Pavel warmly. "But there are enough qualified that I don't have to."

"Of course you can," Pavel agreed, turning to Hikaru who was talking to Leonard and Scotty about whether or not to buy two trees instead of one. "Kaur. Did you know?"

"Yeah, Pasha. It isn't really a secret. Doesn't change who Chris is," Hikaru told him.

"I…I did not know."

"Now you do," Chris said, shaking his head at the younger man and his expression of…well, Chris didn't have a name for the expression on Pavel's face.

"Did you know?" Pavel asked Jim, sitting next to his hip on the couch when Pike joined the conversation about trees, Jim looking up at him in patience and understanding.

"I did. I guess we thought you already knew," Jim said quietly, his right hand on Pavel's knee. "Why are you upset about this?"

"I am not…upset," Pavel said, glancing at the other men who were busy surveying the living room for the perfect spot for the second tree. "I am…surprised."

"Do you think if it came down to it, that he couldn't do it?" Jim asked softly. He knew he had guessed correctly when Pavel looked away from him. "Pav, you know he would. He can. He just doesn't. Doesn't make him any less than he has always been."

"Da. But he tells you to do it. Something he does not do himself."

"Something he _hasn't_ done himself," Jim corrected. "Bones has only five. Scotty probably doesn't have that many. Their talents are elsewhere. Mine is…cleaning up. Pike's is planning."

"Karu?"

"All of it," Jim said fondly. "And running my life. The parts of it Bones and Chris don't control. He's extremely organized and efficient. In everything he does. You'll see when you go out on assignment with him."

"You are one man. How does it take three to make it all vork? Plus your Marjorie?" Pavel asked with his normal innocent smile.

"Because of the complications I can't seem to avoid. If I were just a writer, it'd be easier. But… you know," Jim said with a shrug.

"Da. Vhen do we get to read your latest?"

"There's a copy on my desk if you want to go get it. Are you and Hikaru staying the night?"

"Da. If there is the room," Pavel said, glancing over to make sure Sulu was still in his sight.

"Of course. Scotty will no doubt insist on sleeping on my floor. I don't think Chris is planning to stay."

Pavel nodded again, looking back at Jim. "It does not bother you, right? That Chris never has."

"No Pavel. It doesn't bother me at all. He can. He just hasn't," Jim assured the younger man.

"Da," Pavel said with a nod, standing up and going over to Hikaru who was standing with the others in front of the French doors that led to the passageway to the pool. They were engaged in a friendly argument about whether or not the tree should be placed in the corner between those doors and the bay windows.

Scotty said it would be too easy to knock over. Chris thought it would make a nice balance with the one in the foyer. Leonard thought it was a lot of nonsense to spend so much trying to decide.

"Vhy do you not put it right here?" Pavel asked, standing in the center of the small alcove formed by the bay windows.

"Perfect," Leonard agreed with a nod.

"You have enough decorations for two trees?" Chris asked Leonard.

"We probably have enough for three or four. Jim seems to get a lot of them from his fans. And my patients give them to me," Leonard said with a shrug.

"The ones that survive," Jim called from the couch but they mostly ignored him. Except Bones who made the universal symbol for f*u.

"It's settled then," Hikaru said. "One in the foyer. And one right here. After I get the trees I'll come pick you up and take you to Chris's."

"Da," Chekov agreed, following Sulu into the kitchen to help make the stir fry which could have been done much sooner if not for all the …distractions.


	4. The Shi'Kahr Clan

_The dumber people think you are, the more surprised they're going to be when you kill them._ ~William Clayton

* * *

Spock absolutely would not allow his impatience to show as he rang the doorbell for the second time. When door was finally opened, the man who could only Jim Kirk stared back at him. He wore blue jeans, a faded flannel shirt, and inexplicably, nothing on his feet.

"Mr. Kirk," Spock said, his voice even, his face impassive as though he hadn't been standing on the porch in the swirling snow for 2.335 minutes.

"Mr. Spock," Jim returned, resignation in his voice. "You may as well come in." Jim moved aside to allow his visitor to enter, closing the door when Spock was in the foyer. Spock was a little surprised when Jim offered to take his coat, his demeanor entirely unwelcoming but his manners impeccable. Spock felt a little overdressed in his usual attire, traditional Vulcan pants and tunic in black and grey. He dismissed that thought as quickly as it formed, wondering why it had even surfaced.

"You are a very difficult man to find," Spock told Kirk as he followed him deeper into the house. Jim led him into the large, modern kitchen, filling the shining kettle before putting it on the stove to heat.

"Cup of tea?" Jim asked, reaching up with his right hand for two mugs, his left hand shoved deep in the pocket of his jeans. Spock most assuredly did _not_ notice that he could see the outline of his knuckles through the denim.

"Thank you," Spock agreed with a stiff nod.

"How did you find my address?" Jim asked, leaning against the marble countertop as he looked at his visitor.

"It was not easy," Spock admitted. "I had thought it would be in your file. Only your lawyer's address appears."

"That's on purpose," Jim said.

"Your address does not seem to exist," Spock said, an implied question.

"And yet here you are," Jim said in a hard tone.

Spock could see the almost-anger building in those blue eyes that were really quite a startling color. A small insignificant portion of Spock's brain insisted on telling him that Jim Kirk's publicity photos utterly failed to do him justice and perhaps he could be persuaded to have them retaken. Although there was no technology in the universe that could successfully capture the golden brown of his hair or the cut of his jaw.

Spock nodded at Mr. Kirk's comment. "Indeed. One can discover many facts when one has the appropriate connections."

"Called in some favors did you?"

"In a manner of speaking. You do not answer your phone. You do not return my various emails or phone calls. I have business to discuss yet you seem uninterested."

"I'm not uninterested, Mr. Spock. I'm annoyed."

"Annoyed, Mr. Kirk?" Spock asked, raising his eyebrow in a way that most people, he knew, found slightly intimidating, which was often to his advantage.

"You called me twice on Saturday. Three times on Sunday. Plus your two emails and text messages. And five times today. Mr. Pike said he told you I would contact you when I had the time."

"It is perhaps the inclination that you are lacking rather than the time," Spock said evenly.

"Perhaps," Jim responded.

Spock felt a flare of his own annoyance at the other man's utter calm and apparent insouciance. How could anyone this…passive write novels of such passion and energy? "Had you planned to contact me today?" Spock finally asked.

"Perhaps," Jim said again, turning to reach into the cabinet for a container marked 'Vulcan spice tea' which he handed to Spock along with an infuser.

"You always keep Vulcan tea?" Spock asked, filling the infuser with percision. The other man shrugged at the question, pouring the boiling water into both cups, the second with a regular tea bag.

"I generally have some," Kirk agreed. "Come into the living room. It's warmer."

Spock nodded, following the barefooted man into the large, comfortable living room, watching as he added logs to the bright fire. To Spock's right was a huge tree with a step ladder next to it. The top half of the tree had lights strung evenly around it. The end of the lights trailed across the floor toward the foyer. Seeing the lights, he suddenly understood why it had taken Mr. Kirk so long to answer the door and he felt a small and utterly unwelcome swell of guilt at his former impatience. "Do you have the time to discuss business now?"

"Seems a moot point," Kirk said with a shrug. "You sure didn't come all the way out here for a cup of tea."

"You were disinclined to respond."

"I refused to respond. Which shouldn't be a surprise to you. Didn't you talk to Marjorie and to Mr. Pike?"

"I did," Spock agreed. He paused when the door behind Mr. Kirk opened to admit a shorter man caring a huge spanner.

"Oh, sorry, Jim. Didn't know you were busy," the man said with a thick Scottish accent.

"It's fine, Scotty. This is Mr. Spock," Jim explained. "And this is Montgomery Scott. Genius with machinery."

"Mr. Scott," Spock said, standing as was his custom in greeting someone new.

"Mr. Spock," Scotty said with a smile. "Leonard was right, Jim. The thermostat was off. It's all fixed up now."

"Thanks, Scotty," Jim said.

"You want me to finish stringing the lights for ye?" Scotty asked, looking at the tall tree.

"Sure. Mr. Spock and I will go into my study. Let me know if you need me," Kirk said.

"Of course. I'll do the foyer next," Mr. Scott said, turning his full attention to the first tree and the lights which were awaiting his attention.

"Mr. Scott is in your employ?" Spock asked Jim as he followed him down the hallway and into Mr. Kirk's study. It was a handsome room, dark paneling, burgundy curtains echoed in the burgundy rug covering the hardwood floor. The only area in the room that wasn't immaculate was the broad surface of the mahogany desk which seemed to have every inch covered in stacks and single sheets and innumerable post-it type notes.

Mr. Kirk waved him into a comfortable leather covered wingback, settling into the second one.

"He doesn't exactly work for me," Mr. Kirk said, sipping his tea. "The heater on the pool wasn't working right. Scotty said he'd take a look at it."

"And put the lights on your trees," Mr. Spock said, an implied question, which received only a shrug in response. Again he felt a flare of impatience at the man's reticence. Was he actually the genius behind the books that bore his name? "I have read your submission," Spock said, quelling his illogical anger.

"I figured. Plus you mentioned it in several of your messages."

Spock looked at him, wondering if he was at all interested in what he had to say. He held the power to break this man as a writer and yet he was impassive. This was not a common reaction for him to elicit. "You appear singularly uninvolved in this process."

"I wrote it, Mr. Spock. I sent it to you. I did what I do. You did what you do. Now we talk about what changes need to be made. Some I'll accept. Some I will refuse. That's the process. This isn't my first novel," Mr. Kirk reminded him unnecessarily.

"As I am aware," he responded a little too quickly. He saw the other man's eyes widen slightly and knew that the quirk of his lips was barely disguised humor. That only added to his annoyance. Never mind that he was annoyed that he was annoyed. "It is…a superior work."

"Thanks," Mr. Kirk replied, equally unfazed by the compliment.

"I have noted several alterations I believe will strengthen the overall narrative flow. And there were minor plot inconsistencies. I have noted those as well," Spock said, taking the draft out of his leather briefcase.

Kirk accepted it, smiling at the various colored tabs adhered to the edges of some of the pages. "Color coding?"

"Indeed. Aqua is for narrative interruptions. Sapphire for plot inconsistencies. Canary for factual inaccuracies. Sand for suggested revisions."

"You found all of this in two days?"

"Four and a half days," Spock corrected. "I received it Thursday. Today is Monday."

"Still," he said, setting it aside.

"When will you have it back to me?" Spock asked, trying once again to suppress his impatience at this infuriating man.

"Mmm… tomorrow?"

Spock waited a moment before responding. "That quickly."

"I don't have anything pressing to do. Except decorating the trees. Why are you working for your father?" he asked, the non sequitur taking Spock by surprise.

"I do not understand," Spock replied, studying the other man who gazed steadily back at him.

"You have a PhD in physics. You have published several articles on warp drive mechanics. Granted, you also have a PhD in universal literature studies. But why are you working as an editor in your father's company?"

"I am not certain what that has to do with anything currently under discussion," Spock finally replied, not quite knowing what else to say.

"Well," Kirk said, considering it. "You've learned almost everything one can know about me. Including my address despite my best efforts to keep it anonymous. No one can write without revealing themselves to a certain extent. I suppose I'm interested in leveling the playing field, so to speak."

Spock could only nod in respect to that. It was logical as much as he would have preferred otherwise. "The Shi'Kahr Clan is one of the most ancient and revered on Vulcan. I say this not to promulgate my house but to state that which is well known on my homeworld."

Kirk nodded, attentive to what Spock was saying.

"My father chose to marry a Human."

"Bet they weren't happy about that," Kirk said, not sounding as smug as others might under the same circumstances.

"It caused some difficulties to both my parents," Spock admitted.

"And therefore to you."

"My upbringing was not…common by Vulcan standards," Spock agreed. "My parents eventually determined that it would be healthy for me to experience both sides of my heritage. That is when we moved to Earth."

"Do you like it here?" Kirk asked, sipping his tea and looking over the rim at Spock.

"It is where I live. It is where I work."

"That doesn't answer my question," Kirk pointed out unnecessarily, returning his cup to the side table.

"Earth has more inherent variety than does Vulcan," Spock finally said, wondering how this man he hadn't known for more than 21 minutes could ask him questions he refused to address with those he'd known much longer and more intimately. "Societal norms are more fluid."

"That's for sure," Kirk agreed with a light laugh. "Why aren't you teaching physics somewhere?"

"I had considered it. Perhaps one day I will. For now, I am engaged in assisting my father to acquire and assimilate businesses which show much promise."

"So browbeating recalcitrant writers isn't your only job?" Kirk asked.

"I would hardly characterize our encounters as browbeating, Mr. Kirk."

"They would have been if I'd have answered," he replied, his eyes sparkling.

"Perhaps," Spock said, standing up. "I have taken up enough of your time."

Mr. Kirk nodded, escorting him back to the front door, returning his heavy coat to him. After their farewells, Spock could feel the other man's eyes on him as he entered his sleek silver Jaguar. He glanced over at the front door in time to see it close, blocking Kirk from his view.


	5. Sand Is Suggested Revisions

_The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug._ ~Mark Twain

* * *

"Good lord, Jimmy," Scotty said when Jim was back inside the house. "How OCD is he?"

"He's a Vulcan," Jim laughed. "Aren't they really interchangeable?"

"Aye. I suppose they are at that," Scotty had to agree, climbing off the step ladder. "Go make your revisions. I can handle this."

"You sure?" Jim asked, watching him wind his way around the tree.

"Positive. If you make the revisions and send them right on, it'll fly all over him. That alone will be worth it."

"Yeah," Jim laughed. "I'll bring my laptop to the living room. In case you fall off the step stool."

"That's not goin' happen," Scotty assured him with a laugh.

"You weren't drinking just Pepsi after lunch."

"Ach," Scotty said, shrugging it off. "Just a wee nip. To keep out the cold."

"It's not snowing inside the house," Jim pointed out, laughing at Scotty.

"It's not at that," Scotty agreed, pausing to peer out the huge windows at the snow. "Do I need to run get Leonard?"

"He hasn't called. What time is it?"

"Quarter to six."

"I'll give him a call and see," Jim said, going over to the phone to dial Bones' cell. "Hey."

"Hey," Bones responded.

"You on your way home?"

"Another 45 minutes. Why? You okay?"

"I'm fine," Jim assured him. "Scotty said he'd come get you if you're worried about the snow."

"It bad?" Bones asked.

"Not yet. But by 6:30 it could be slick," Jim said. "It's laying on the grass."

"What's he driving?" Bones asked.

"Hey Scotty," Jim said. "What are you driving today?"

"Hummer," Scotty told him.

"Then yeah, tell him to come get me," Bones agreed. "Wait. How much has he had to drink?"

"He said just a wee nip," Jim said, doing a fine imitation of Scotty's accent.

"Of course."

"Spock paid me a visit," Jim said casually.

"Oh joy. Bet that was just a whole world of fun," Bones said.

"Yeah. I'll tell you all about it when you get home."

"Good. What's for dinner?"

"Scotty, what's for dinner?" Jim asked.

"It's your turn," Scotty responded.

"So. No dinner," Bones said.

"You and Scotty can run by the China Palace," Jim said.

"No. We'll go to Marcella's."

"Okay. Scotty should come get you at 6:30?"

"Sounds good. Call Marcella's. Order me linguini with clam sauce. The boys comin'?" Bones asked.

"I don't know. I'll call them and ask."

"You sound tired. Did you nap today like I asked you to?" Bones asked sternly.

"We could talk about that when you get home," Jim suggested.

"Fine. You'll go to bed once you finish eating."

"When did you become the boss of me?"

"When you refused to take care of yourself. I got to go. I'll see you in an hour."

"Yep," Jim agreed, hanging up and telling Scotty about the plans. He then called Sulu who said that he and Chekov would be coming over, Pavel wanting to tell Jim all about his meeting with Chris. Since they were already out in the weather, they agreed to run by the hospital and pick up Leonard, and then go to the restaurant. Jim didn't bother to call Bones about the change of plans. When he saw Hikaru's cherry red Jeep Cherokee instead of Scotty's obnoxiously yellow Hummer, he'd know automatically.

Jim went to his study for his laptop, bringing it into the living room. It was easier to work on than his desk top since he could put it lower and reduce the strain on his left arm. It was feeling tight but he knew that meant it was healing. In a few days, it would start to itch unbearably which was sometimes worse than the pain.

He opened the draft that Spock had returned, reading quickly over the first few comments. They were short and pointed, no flowery language to sugarcoat the truth. Jim wasn't sure if he preferred that way or Marjorie's gentler suggestions. He felt like he had the option to ignore Marjorie but Spock seemed to be dictating to him the revisions that _would_ be made.

"Hey Scotty?"

"Yeah?" Scotty responded, pausing in stringing the lights on the foyer tree.

"Do you think 'mitigated' and 'reduced' are the same?" Jim asked, studying the page.

"No. They have different shades of meaning," Scotty said.

"I think so too. Listen to this sentence and tell me if you think I should change it," Jim said. He read the sentence in question, using first one verb and then the other. "What do you think?"

"Mitigated," Scotty confirmed.

"Yeah," Jim said with a nod. "He certainly thinks highly of himself."

"That's a shame," Scotty said. "He ugly to ya?"

"No. Not exactly. He made quite a few more suggestions than Marjorie ever did. I'm not saying there are all wrong. But…." Jim shrugged, flipping through the rest of the pages.

"They are color coded?" Scotty had to ask with a laugh.

"Yeah. Sand is for factual errors. I think. No – that's canary. Sand is suggested revisions."

"What does that mean?" Scotty asked, leaning against the arm of Jim's chair to look down at the manuscript.

"Things I could have phrased better?"

"Seems to me you phrase things just fine. Don't get to be a best seller because you almost got it right."

"Yeah. His opinion is apparently quite different," Jim said, flipping to the next post-it.

"Light blue?"

"Aqua. Narrative…disruptions. I think. Good Lord. They may need to contract with Marjorie. Or I'm finding a new publisher," Jim said, looking up at Scotty with a frown.

"Give her a call," Scotty suggested. "She'll… well, I don't quite know what she'll say. She might have some wisdom to share."

"You think?"

"Sure no harm in askin'," Scotty pointed out, returning to his decorating.

Jim decided he had a point and called Marjorie, glad when she picked up right away. He tried really hard not to whine about the notes Spock had left him but he was taken aback by the volume of suggested changes.

"I know, darling. And I'm sorry," she said in sympathy.

"Has he done this before? I mean, really? Having a PhD doesn't automatically qualify you, does it?"

"Not necessarily. And he is Vulcan. That's a whole other dimension."

"Yeah," Jim sighed. "What's my best recourse?"

"Ask Chris to call them. Or call Spock and tell him," Marjorie suggested.

"Will it help? They have the right to request as many revisions as they want."

"That's their prerogative. That doesn't mean they are right, love. Your writing is different from most of their other talent. When did you say you'd have it back?"

"Tomorrow. Mostly because his attitude got my back up. But now…."

"I know."

"I'm not sure I can work like this. Maybe you spoiled me and if so, I appreciate it. But I seem to be utterly incapable of constructing a well constructed sentence. Well. That's just more proof, isn't it?"

"Oh sweetie," she laughed. "You are always more articulate on paper. One of the many reasons I love you so much."

"Glad someone does. Cause Spock sure isn't in my fan club," Jim moaned, sounding childish to his own ears.

"Yes he is. I think he wants to show you who is boss. Not my way of doing things but then I'm not the owner's son."

"And you're not Vulcan," Jim added in resignation.

"Make the revisions you agree with. Ignore the others. They bought the House to acquire you. Why would they want to ruin one of their best products?"

"I'm a product now?" Jim asked with a laugh.

"You know you are. Comes with being number one on Times best seller list 43 of the last 52 weeks."

"Damn Hillary Rodgers and her damn pixies."

"Fairies, dear. They aren't the same," Marjorie reminded him.

"Why didn't they invoke the Harry Potter rule and list her separately?"

"No idea. I'll ask next time I have sex with the editor of that section."

"You have a potty mouth," Jim told her with a laugh.

"Sometimes I do."

"And I know for a fact you've never had sex with him."

"Because you have?" she laughed.

"Not yet. It's on my to-do list."

"Sure. Call for the meeting, dear. Draw your proverbial line in the sand."

"Will you come with me?"

"No I will not. But you may want to take Chris. That would be reasonable."

"Alright. Thanks for being there in my time of need," Jim said, trying to sound put-upon.

"You are breaking my heart. You know that, right?"

"I hope so. Because you've already crushed mine."

"Right. I need to go. I have a date with a hot man who doesn't have anything to do with publishing or copyrights or revisions from stubborn writers."

"Humph," Jim snorted. "I'm pouring my heart out to you and you are going off to have sex with someone I don't know."

"I didn't know I needed your approval," she laughed.

"I suppose you don't at that," he had to agree. "I'll let you know what happens."

"Yes. Do that, dear," she agreed, hanging up after their farewells.

"What are ya goin' do?" Scotty asked, studying the illuminated tree to decide if the lights were evenly placed.

"No idea. She said just make the ones I think are legit. If there's a throw down over it, I'll have a meeting with Spock and Sarek, and take Chris."

"Makes sense," Scotty said, rearranging a couple of the strings of lights.

"What do you want for dinner?" Jim asked as he watched Scotty putter.

"Mmm… Spaghetti with meatballs. And extra garlic bread."

Jim nodded, calling the restaurant and placing their order, adding an extra large pepperoni with extra cheese for Hikaru and Pavel although he thought Chekov might be too excited to eat. That done, he returned to his laptop, frowning at the numerous suggestions Spock had made on his manuscript. Could he just go on strike and refuse to make them? What would happen then? His novels had come out every February for the last six years. Regular as clockwork. If this one was late, his readers would let House Net'no'kwa know of their displeasure. And he was pretty sure pre-orders had already started. Deciding to find out, he skipped over to Amazon to discover his yet untitled novel was number 12 on the top of the pre-order list. Great. Just great.

"Hey Scotty. Guess who's #12 on the pre-order list," Jim said with a laugh.

"Hillary Rodgers?" Scotty said just to make Jim frown at him.

"Yeah. And I'm king of the universe."

"I knew that, your majesty," Scotty said. "How can anyone pre-order when you haven't given it a name yet?"

"It just says New Hardcover by Jim Kirk."

"How much?"

"You can preorder it today for $15.63 plus shipping and handling," Jim informed him.

"And when will I receive it?"

"February 12."

"That's an awfully long time to wait," Scotty complained mildly. "I had rather hoped I'd get it for Christmas."

"Or that you could read it tonight," Jim suggested with a laugh.

"Aye. That I would," Scotty agreed. "Where did Sulu leave the decorations?"

"In his room, I think. I'm not sure. He was vacuuming the living room rugs so he may not have wanted them in here."

"It's his room now?" Scotty laughed. "I had thought it was mine."

"His. Yours. Pavel's. You know," Jim said with a shrug. "There's enough for everybody."

"True, true," Scotty said, going down the hallway to get the boxes of decorations. "Leonard will thank you not to help," he said when Jim came over to the living room tree.

Jim snorted at him and returned to his chair, frowning at his manuscript. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. And that did not sit well with him. "Maybe I should tell Mr. Spock that I could have him killed. Think that would help?"

"Have him killed? Or do it yourself?" Scotty laughed.

"I guess Chris wouldn't approve, huh?" Jim asked.

"Pretty sure he'd object."

Jim picked up the phone, dialing the cell phone number that appeared on each and every one of the sticky notes, all four colors. "Mr. Spock," he said when the other man had answered.

"Mr. Kirk," came the even response.

"I've been looking over your 'suggested revisions,'" Jim told him, trying to disguise some of his growing anger.

"Yes," Mr. Spock said. Not exactly encouraging.

"I'm a little taken aback, to be honest," Jim said reluctantly. "I understand that I sometimes lose track of the narrative thread and I'm certain willing to make those revisions."

"As I had presumed," Mr. Spock said.

"Some of your other suggestions, however," Jim said, trying to find the most diplomatic way to phrase his objections. 'Are you out of your f-ing mind?' sounded reasonable but he didn't think that was the best way to state it. "They are a little…intrusive."

"Intrusive," Mr. Spock repeated as though trying out the word.

"Did you retain a copy?" Jim asked, knowing full well that he had. Of course he did. He's OCD.

"Yes," Mr. Spock agreed.

"On page 152 for instance," Jim said, looking down at the page. "You crossed out half of Dichali's dialog. He always talks too much. It's one of his defining characteristics. And some of what you suggest I eliminate is there to provide additional background."

"Yes," Mr. Spock repeated, not elaborating.

"Yes what? Yes you agree? Yes I should ignore your suggestion? Yes it provides background? Yes it's on page 152?" Jim asked, a sharp edge of impatience coloring his tone.

"You are correct," Mr. Spock said.

"What?" Jim demanded, rapidly losing control of his temper. "What game are you playing, Mr. Spock?"

"I do not play games, Mr. Kirk. I was in error with my suggestion on page 152. You are under no obligation to accept any of my revisions."

Jim took a deep breath, trying to quell some of his near epic exasperation. "We aren't off to a very good start."

"I regret you feel that way," Mr. Spock said in the exact same tone he had used the entire time. Jim sure didn't _hear_ any regret.

"Maybe we need to do this in person," Jim said reluctantly. "I need to have an idea of where your head is."

"Where my head is," Spock repeated.

"You know what I mean. Do you have time to meet with me tomorrow? I'll come to your office."

"I do not have the time tomorrow. I am available on Wednesday. Will that be acceptable?"

"Yes, Wednesday is fine," Jim agreed, wondering if he could manage to have him killed between now and then.

"What time on Wednesday would be convenient to you, Mr. Kirk?"

"8 in the morning? That will leave me the rest of the day to concentrate."

"That will be fine. I will see you Wednesday morning at 8 a.m.," Mr. Spock said, ringing off.

"You takin' Chris with you?" Scotty asked.

"No. This is ridiculous," Jim said, shaking his head. "Utterly ridiculous."

"It seems overdone," Scotty had to agree, going to open the front door when he heard the Cherokee arrive in the drive. Leonard came in first, complaining about the cold, and Hikaru's driving, and Pavel's nonstop talking the entire trip home. He accepted the glass of bourbon from Jim, frowning at him on principle.

"How was your day?" Jim asked him as Leonard shrugged out of his overcoat, giving it to Sulu to hang on the back of the closet.

"What do you care?" Bones asked in return.

"Whoa, Dr. Grumpy. What did I do?"

"You sent Abbott and Costello to get me. Do you have any idea how much they talk? Talk talk talk talk talk."

Jim shook his head, looking over at Hikaru and Pavel who were standing in the foyer with bags from the restaurant, their laughter barely disguised. "What did you two do with the kind, amusing doctor who lives here?"

"Invasion of the body snatcher?" Sulu suggested, going into the dining room to put their dinners on the table. "Come and get it."

Pavel was still talking nonstop, telling Jim about being certified, picking out his brand new phaser, going with Mr. Pike to the range to be certified on it, getting his credentials, and receiving the brand new cell phone that was already programmed with Jim's number and Leonard's number and Mr. Pike's _private_ number.

Jim glanced over at Hikaru who was doing nothing to disguise his smile at Pavel's excitement. Even Bones had to smile as much as he tried not to. Scotty listened and ate and ate some more.

When Pavel finally wound down, Jim told them about Mr. Spock's visit and the revisions he had suggested.

"Color coded 'em," Scotty added, the others shaking their heads.

"What are you goin' do?" Bones asked Jim as they lingered over garlic bread and bourbon.

Jim shrugged. "Make some of them. Ignore some. I'm meeting him Wednesday at 8 to talk about the rest."

"Are you taking Chris?" Hikaru asked.

"Not this time. Marjorie thinks it may come to that but not yet," Jim said as Hikaru and Pavel cleaned up the table, stacking the dishes on the dishwasher. They all adjourned to the living room, Jim lounging on the couch, Bones in his chair, the other three busy with the trees.

"How was your day?" Jim asked Bones when there was a lull in the chatter.

Bones shrugged. "You know. Fine. A little boring."

"Sorry," Jim laughed. "Kind of a nice change of pace though."

"Yeah. December does that," Bones agreed, watching the others put the decorations on the trees, engaging in friendly arguments about where each bauble and angel and Santa should be placed. "We ever that young?" he asked, nodding his head toward Pavel.

"Once we were. A long time ago," Jim said with a smile. "I wouldn't want to be."

"Me neither," Bones agreed. "They staying the night?"

"Are y'all sleeping over?" Jim asked in their general direction.

"You mind?" Hikaru asked in response.

"You know the answer to that," Bones assured him. "And anyway, you have to take me in tomorrow morning."

"Of course. Chauffer is on my job description somewhere," Sulu laughed.

"Right under smart-ass," Bones agreed.

"May be right over it," Jim said with a laugh.

"If all you smarty pants will excuse me, I'm turning in," Bones said, receiving a chorus of good-nights in response.


	6. Shepherd's Pie for Dinner

_But screw your courage to the sticking-place,  
__And we'll not fail. _~ Macbeth

* * *

"Yeah?" Jim said into the phone. Finally focusing on the clock showed it to be 1:24. _A.M._ "This better be good."

"Scotty's down," Chris said, waking Jim the rest of the way.

"All right," Jim said, sitting up and squinting at the brightness when he turned on his light. "Pavel okay?"

"Handling it better than I expected. Has Scotty secure."

"What happened?" he asked, looking up at Bones who was standing in his doorway with a frown.

"I'm not really sure. But Scotty can't fly the shuttle. And Pavel isn't certified. I don't doubt he could but not alone. Not his first time."

"Of course not," Jim agreed. "Can I take Sulu?"

"He's going to be emotionally compromised when he hears. I'm sending Giotto to pick you up."

"Did they fulfill the mission?" Jim asked.

"Yeah. It may have been crossfire. I couldn't get the facts from Pavel. He kept slipping into Russian. I told him you're on your way. And he should call you his first chance."

"Okay," Jim repeated.

"Chris has to call Mr. Spock," Bones told him, Jim repeating it.

"I'll take care of it. Go and get them, Jim. Bring them home."

"I will," Jim promised, hanging up and pulling on black jeans and a plain black shirt.

"What happened to Scotty?" Bones asked as Jim checked his backpack.

"Chris said he was shot. He thinks in the crossfire. They finished the job."

Bones nodded, going with Jim into the living room. "Does Hikaru know?"

"Chris will call him. He'll have to order him to stay away," Jim said, shaking his head.

"He may be at the shuttle hanger when you get there," Bones warned, taking Jim's black leather jacket out of the closet.

"He may. He'll follow orders. Even if it is Pavel," Jim said, peering out the front window.

"Who's coming?" Bones asked.

"Sam Giotto. Go back to bed. I'll call as soon as we know anything," Jim said warmly.

"I know you will. I'm awake now. I'll wait until Giotto gets here," Bones said. "Please be careful. You're still recovering."

"I'll be fine. It's been nearly a week since I was injured," Jim reminded him.

"Barely 5 days," Bones said, shaking his head. "Let Sam fly so you can get some sleep."

"Will you please stop worrying? We'll be fine."

"Okay," Bones said. "Call me as soon as you know anything."

"You know I will," Jim agreed, opening the front door when Sam pulled into the drive. "I'll see you later."

"Right," Bones said, closing the door behind him. He returned to bed, sleep not returning as easily.

"You have any details?" Jim asked Sam when he was in the toasty Suburban. The two toddler booster seats were in the back, ready for when Sam got home to Denise and their twin boys.

"Not any more than you have. Chris told Pavel to call you since you can translate. He didn't reach you yet, right?" Sam asked.

"Not yet," Jim said, taking his phone out of his pocket to double check that he hadn't missed any calls. "I'm sure he'll call as soon as he feels safe."

"I'm sure he will," Sam said, driving carefully down the narrow road that was the only way in or out of Jim's property. "Could you be further off the road?"

Jim shrugged, telling him about his new editor who had made a surprise appearance on Monday.

"Where'd he get your address?" Sam asked, turning onto a more main road that would eventually lead them to town.

"Called in favors as far as I could tell. He's very…structured. Even for a Vulcan," Jim said.

"What are you going to do?" Sam asked.

"I had a meeting with him today. Chris will reschedule it. Marjorie said to draw a line in the sand. They aren't going to risk losing me as their 'property.'"

Sam laughed softly at that. "I know how much you appreciated her saying that."

"Totally. She also said I need to be on Oprah when the next comes out. Just the idea makes me shudder."

"I know, Jim. But she has a point. I read it yesterday. One of your very best," Sam said with a smile.

"But you aren't prejudiced in your views at all," Jim laughed.

"Not in the least. It's brilliant. Funny. Poignant. Insightful. Made me think."

"And needs a whole world of revisions, according to Spock."

"That's a little hard to believe," Sam said. "I mean, there were a few inconsistencies. But that always happens. You fix those and you're done."

"Thanks," Jim said. "You think Marjorie would have told me she was retiring. You and Denise are coming to her dinner Saturday, right?"

"Of course," Sam agreed, pulling into the drive-thru of the all-night donut shop, ordering two extra large coffees and a box of donut holes. "No, we aren't the police," he told the sleepy teenager who took his money in exchange for their order.

"You have a babysitter for Saturday?" Jim asked, accepting his coffee.

"Yeah. Denise's sister said she'd come over. The boys love her so we're all set," Sam said. "We need to bring anything?"

"I have no idea. Hikaru is planning it. You can ask him when we get back," Jim said, looking out the window at the Christmas decorations up in the town. "You start your Christmas shopping yet?"

"Mail order, Jimmy. I told you that's the way to go," Sam said with a laugh.

"Yeah. What should I get the boys?" Jim asked.

"Those fire engines you pedal. Denise will probably disable the bell but the little guys will love them."

"Consider it done," Jim agreed. "I'll order them from Amazon. I still have at least a thousand dollars in credits."

Sam laughed at that. "It really does suck to be you."

"You have no idea," Jim agreed, eating another donut hole. "How's Denise's research going?"

"She's hit a snag. The new hybrids didn't take so she's going to have to try again."

"I'm sorry. It would have been great if it had worked like she expected," Jim said.

"She still can't figure out why it didn't work. The computer models were very encouraging."

"Sabotage?" Jim asked.

"We only think that because of what we do," Sam told him.

"Denise tell you that?"

"Something like that," Sam confirmed, pulling up to the gate to enter his code. It slid open to allow them to enter the private airfield. It wasn't long before they arrived at the disguised hanger where the shuttles were housed.

They wanted to be surprised when they pulled up beside a cherry red Jeep Cherokee, Sulu emerging as soon as Sam stopped his car.

"You can't be here," Jim told Hikaru when he was out of the Suburban.

"I don't care. I'm coming," Sulu informed him, staring holes through Jim before turning to face Sam, fierce determination etched in every line of his body.

"You know that you cannot come," Giotto said, each word distinct.

"It's Pavel, Sam. How does Pike think I can't go?" Sulu demanded.

"Not only is it standard procedure, it's too dangerous for you to go, Karu. You know that. We'll get them out," Jim promised, a hand on Sulu's shoulder.

"Please, Jim," Sulu asked, _need_ replacing defiance.

Jim could only shake his head. "It'd be our butts in a sling too. I know you're worried. We're worried too. If it was Bones, would Pike let me go?"

Sulu considered those words for a moment, looking from Jim to Sam and back. "Yes."

"No he wouldn't," Sam corrected. "He'd send me and you. Not Jim. Those regs exist for a reason. Even Jim respects them. How many others has he ever followed?"

"None," Hikaru conceded. "Let me at least go with you. I'll stay out of the operation."

Jim shook his head again. "Go home, Hikaru. Bones is probably still awake. You two can worry together. And you can make sure he gets to work on time."

"You'll call as soon as you can?" Sulu asked Jim, the raw emotions coming through in his voice.

"As soon as we know anything," Jim promised. "Has Pavel contacted you?"

"No. He knows the protocol. You'll have him call when he can?"

"You know I will," Jim said, pulling Hikaru into a warm hug. "Go home. You'll hear from us first. I promise."

Sulu looked like he wanted to continue to argue but instead slowly backed away and got into his Cherokee. When he was out of the airfield, Jim turned to Sam who was watching him with a warm expression.

"What?" Jim asked.

Sam shrugged, smiling at him. "You are only a few years older. But you could be his father."

"Older, beloved brother," Jim corrected.

"Either way. You are very good for him," Sam said.

"I try to give him what you and Chris gave me," Jim said gratefully.

"You're welcome, kid," Sam said with a quiet laugh.

Jim took out his phone, requesting the code from the system, confirming to Sam that it was received. Sam unlocked the hanger door, the safeguards allowing Jim 20 seconds to input the code or the hanger would self-destruct and them with it. The code safely entered, the door locked behind them and the lights came on in response. There were 3 shuttles remaining. One was being repaired and one was still in Hong Kong.

Jim's phone said they should take shuttle 325 – Obi-Wan. The door to that shuttle opened as they approached, the lights inside welcoming without being too bright. Sam took the pilot seat, Jim in the co-pilot position. He was fully certified to fly all of the shuttles but Sam was more experienced and was pilot by default.

When they finished all the systems checks, Sam entered his code into the control panel and the hanger roof retracted for them to lift off through it.

"ETA 87.256 minutes," the very helpful computer informed them when they were clear of the hanger.

"Get some sleep," Sam said to Jim. "I'll wake you when as we are approaching Chinese airspace."

"Okay," Jim agreed, putting his phone into the shuttle recharger pod. He reclined his seat, closing his eyes. It was only a minute later that he was sound asleep, the lessons on grabbing sleep when it was available learned well over the years.

He was instantly awake when his phone rang. "Pavel," he said smoothly, almost gently. "Are you safe?"

"Da," Pavel said, sounding remarkably calm. "Scotty is stable."

"Is he conscious?" Jim asked.

"Intermittently," Pavel said in Russian. "He has no fever. Bullet went all way through."

"That's good," Jim replied in English. "Where are you?"

"Location 243C. Blacked out. Water is good."

"Good. You're only 6 minutes by foot from the warehouse," Jim said. "We'll land in…."

"21 minutes," Sam supplied.

Jim repeated it, Chekov confirming. "Did you disable the shuttle?"

"Da. You will fly it back?" Chekov asked.

"Probably. Are you able to contact Sulu?"

"I do not risk it," Pavel said. "The patrols circle but do not enter."

"All right. Sit tight. We'll get you out," Jim assured him.

"I do not worry. I know you are coming," Pavel said, speaking in Russian because it was easier for his brain to process under the circumstances.

"We'll contact you when we're ready to land," Jim assured him. Pavel acknowledged, signing off. "Think it's safe to call Sulu?"

Sam checked the controls, confirming that they were still on their side of friendly airspace.

Jim dialed Sulu's number, the phone answered before the first ring finished. "He's fine."

"What'd he say?" Sulu asked breathlessly.

"He followed all the protocols. Scotty is stable. He disabled the shuttle just like he was supposed to."

"He's safe?" Sulu asked.

"Yes. In black-out. He has plenty of water." Jim could hear Sulu taking a calming breath. "I'll call you as soon as we have them secured."

"Okay. Thanks," Sulu said, his voice more relaxed. "I'll sorry about my behavior at the hanger."

"Not necessary," Jim assured him. "It's forgotten. I'd do the same if it were Bones."

"No you wouldn't," Hikaru laughed. "But thanks for saying so."

"Right," Jim said. "We're approaching Chinese airspace. We'll call as soon as possible."

"Thanks," Sulu agreed, hanging up.

"He okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. You know. It'll get easier on him," Jim said.

"Not really," Sam laughed. "He'll get better at disguising it."

"True," Jim agreed. "Have we been spotted by radar?"

"Not yet. We're above them. We'll dip down at the last second and then we'll be below it so they'll think we are a malfunction," Sam said.

"Good," Jim said, looking out the shuttle window at the endless blue of the sky. "The more I think about this Spock, the angrier I get."

"I can understand that," Sam said. "You know he's not right."

"Hardly matters. He believes he is. Which makes him right."

"And he'll be sorry when Chris finds you a new publisher," Sam reminded him.

"I don't want it to get that far. Seriously, Sam. Does he think my novels before he came along were trash?"

"Of course not. He wants to announce his presence with authority."

"I guess it's a good thing I have such a high batting average then," Jim laughed.

"Absolutely," Sam agreed. "Secure your shoulder harness. We're ready to dive."

Jim nodded, tightening all of his belts and straps. Sam expertly dove quickly and smoothly, evading their radar and effectively disappearing. They flew low over the outskirts of the city, their shuttlecraft signaling Pavel that they were nearly there. Very soon, they arrived at the location closest to where Chekov said they would be found. They came to the old abandoned American Pepsi bottling facility, one of the wide warehouse doors crawling aside when Sam input the code. Sam turned the shuttle on its side, flying it through the door. He straightened up, effortlessly landing the craft next to #315 Qui-Gon, the one Scotty and Pavel had flown to Hong Kong. The warehouse door creaked closed.

Sam shut down all the systems before opening the shuttle door. Jim led him out and into the huge empty warehouse, making sure they had all their gear. After securing their shuttle, they peered out the regular door to make sure the area was deserted as it generally was. There was no one stirring in the rundown industrial section where they had landed so they felt safe to emerge into the sunshine diluted by the ever present Hong Kong pollution.

"The air quality gets worse every time I come," Sam remarked casually as they made their way toward the busy road that ran in front of the warehouse complex.

"China will never really adhere to the Kyoto Protocol," Jim agreed. "Unfortunate, really."

"At least they signed it," Sam said. They stayed close to the dilapidated buildings, fading into the shadows as much as they could. When they reached the crowded street, clogged with bicycles, pedestrians, small cars, and ancient trucks, they blended in as well as they could, standing taller than most of the residents. They did not attract any particular attention outside of some curious glances. Jim listened attentively to the chatter around them, not detecting any suspicions concerning their presence.

They casually ducked into the alley that they knew would lead them to the safe house that Chekov had given them as their location. After entering the dark hallway, they took the wooden steps up two at a time until they reached the fourth floor.

Chekov stood just on the other side of a scarred wooden door, his phaser steadily held chest high. He relaxed a fraction, stepping further into the room so that Jim and Sam could enter. He looked calm despite the fact that his clothes were liberally splattered with blood. "Jim, Sam," Pavel said, relief in his voice as he holstered the phaser.

"We're here," Sam assured him.

"Scotty is currently unconscious," Pavel said, Jim translating. "Oh. I am sorry. I meant to say in English."

"Not a problem, Pavel. You haven't slept in nearly 24 hours, right?"

"Da," Chekov agreed. "No I have not. Slept. I am okay."

"I know you are, Pavel," Jim assured him, telling him that he was still using English. He and Sam followed Chekov into a smaller room to find Scotty laying on the floor, his eyes closed, lines of pain surrounding them, his breathing shallow but even.

"Scotty," Pavel said, a hand on his right shoulder. The left leg of his trousers was split all the way up to his hip, an ugly dark wound marring his thigh. Scotty eyes slowed opened, trying to focus on Pavel and then on Sam.

"Hey," Scotty whispered. "We home?"

"Not yet, Scotty," Sam said softly. "We'll get you there as soon as we can."

Scotty barely nodded, shifting his blurry vision to Pavel. "Chekov did great. Took him out like a pro."

"Good," Sam said with a nod. "What happened?"

"Crossfire. We made the shot. Just one. There was confusion. Bodyguards didn't know where it was from. Sprayed the area with gunfire. Three bystanders hurt," Chekov said in concern.

"It is sometimes a regrettable consequence," Sam reminded him, putting his hand on Scotty's forehead. He was too warm and too pale. Blood loss and possible infection from the gunshot wound. Sam accepted Jim's backpack, digging in it until he found the portable medical kit. He took out a huge bandage, cleaning as much of the blood off Scotty's leg as he could.

"Sulu is worried but he's okay," Jim was saying to Pavel.

"Da," Chekov agreed. "I can speak with him on the way home?"

"Of course," Jim said, giving him a protein bar to eat. "You want another one?"

"No. I am okay. How is he?" Chekov asked Sam who was working on Scotty's leg.

"He's lost a lot of blood. The bullet went all the way through so that was good. It's going to be a tough go getting him back to the shuttle," Sam said, looking up at Jim.

"Sundown's in about 45 minutes," Jim said, checking his watch. "It will be easier to get back undetected once it's dark."

"Can Scotty wait?" Chekov asked. Sam looked up at Jim who translated for Chekov who couldn't seem to remain in English.

"We don't have any choice," Sam told him gently, looking down at the wounded man who was speaking softly. Sam listened before requesting water from Chekov. He soon returned with it, handing it to Jim who helped Scotty drink it as Sam put the bandage over the wound. When it was tied tight, Jim removed his jacket, putting it over Scotty to help conserve his body heat as the daylight began to fade. Sam also put his jacket over Scotty, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"Is he hallucinating?" Pavel asked Sam when he was squatting next to Scotty, his eyes wide.

"Praying," Sam said, looking over at the younger man. "Foxhole religion."

"Da," Pavel said with a nod before turning his attention to Jim. "Pike will be mad. With me."

"No he won't, Pav. Why do you think this is your fault?" Jim asked.

"He was protecting me. He could have gotten safely away but he stayed."

"That's what we do. And you would have done the exact same thing," Jim reminded him.

"Da," Chekov agreed with a nod. They talked quietly as they waited for the sun to make its slow way out of the sky, Sam closely monitoring Scotty's condition although he knew there was very little he could do if Scotty took a turn for the worse. But Scotty had proved his toughness dozens of times before and they knew this time would be no different.

"It's 17:00," Jim said, peering cautiously out of a nearly blacked out window. "Sundown was at 16:30."

"Good," Sam said with a nod. He gently shook Scotty who slowly opened his eyes. "Scotty. We have to move."

"Right," Scotty said. "I'm with you, Calum. Is it time for dinner?"

"Very nearly," Sam agreed. "We have to get home first."

"Right right," Scotty said, struggling to sit up. "Had a wee too much to drink. Sorry Calum."

"It's fine, Scotty. I'll get you home. Jim and Pavel will help us."

"Jim?" Scotty said, squinting at Jim. "What are you doin' here, lad?"

"I was invited to dinner. So I told Sam I'd help get you home on time."

"Calum's a good lad," Scotty said in approval. "That you, Duncan?"

"It is," Pavel agreed. "I'm coming to dinner too."

"Mama knows?" Scotty asked Sam as he helped Scotty try to stand.

"Mama knows," Sam assured him. "She has plenty for all of us."

"Shepherd pie," Scotty said with a nod. "Hers is the best."

"Absolutely," Jim agreed, standing on Scotty's left side as Sam supported his right. "You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Scotty said sounding more lucid. But they suspected it would not last and soon he'd be back in his own world where Sam and Pavel were his brothers instead of his friends.

Pavel took his phaser out of his hidden holster, leading the way out of the small room and into the dark hallway. There were no lights in the corridor. It meant they would not be detected though it made getting safely down the steps more of a challenge. They descended the narrow stairwell, Scotty clamping his teeth on any sounds he might have made. They had to get to the street. There was no way around it.

Pavel slowly opened the door to check the alleyway, nodding and putting away his phaser. He led them out into the alley and they made their way to the street. It was less crowded than it had been earlier which was not in their favor. They would stand out more as Anglos, not disappearing in with the residents. They attracted some unwelcome attention but the determined and slightly fierce expressions on their faces prevented anyone from approaching them.

The trip was slowed by Scotty's inability to support his own weight but he was valiantly silent the entire time. When they at last reached the deserted warehouse section, Jim hoisted Scotty over one shoulder. Scotty grunted quietly when the movement jarred his leg but did not complain. Sam was pretty sure that Scotty passed out shortly after he was picked up. It was really for the best.

It was a great relief for them all when they reached the Pepsi warehouse, slipping inside after Pavel used his phone to signal the door to open. They went directly into shuttle Obi-Wan when Sam had the doorway down. Jim lowered Scotty onto one of the beds in the back, arranging his leg more comfortably.

"Go and get the blankets from your shuttle," Sam said to Pavel who nodded and left. Sam was working on Scotty who was mumbling incoherently.

"How's it look?" Jim asked.

"Like you'd expect. It's mostly the blood loss. Get me an IV," Sam directed, Jim automatically going to the storage unit. He very soon returned with the sterile bag and the necessary tubing. Sam eased the needle into Scotty's arm and turned on the drip. He hung it from the convenient hook above the bed where Scotty was laying, securing it so it would not come loose on the trip home.

Pavel returned and handed the blankets to Jim, making himself scarce as the other men worked on Scotty. Sam did everything he could to make sure Scotty was as well cared for as possible, strapping him in. "Pavel."

Chekov returned to the open compartment, looking up at Sam.

"He's stable. He'll make it until we get home and Leonard can fix him up."

"Da," Pavel said with a nod.

"Lay down and get some sleep. We'll be home in a couple of hours," Sam said, Pavel looking at Jim with wide eyes. Jim repeated what Sam had said in Russian, Pavel better able to understand in his native language.

"Da," Pavel said, laying down in the bed across from Scotty and waiting as Jim fastened him in and pulling the blanket over him. "Спасибо."

"You're welcome," Jim responded, following Sam into the front compartment, studying Sam. "You need me to drive?"

"I'm okay," Sam said, taking a deep breath. "I'm not sure he's going to make it."

"I know, Sam. You did everything you could. We aren't a hospital," Jim said in the same very quiet tone.

"If the worst happens, will Chekov survive it?"

"He's tougher then he looks," Jim said. "And he has Hikaru."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, sitting in the pilot seat as Jim took the co-pilot position.

* * *

_A/N: A gigantic Thank You to everyone who has reviewed, favorited and/or alerted this story! You are the cream and sugar in my coffee! I don't know when I'll update this story next because I have decided to plunge headlong into the madness that is National Novel Writing Month - NaNoWriMo - 50,000 words in 30 days. (Google it - you'll understand.) Why I've decided to do this is really beyond me but I feel the need to try it. I am writing a non-**fan**fiction story so you won't be able to find it under my ST fanfiction pen name. If you are really curious, feel free to private message me and I'll share with you the info you'll need to track my progress. (Yeah, it's way too complicated and I'm sorry it sounds so cloak and dagger.) Anyway, I hope you enjoyed chapter 6 and I'll post chapter 7 as quickly as I can. **Thanks again!**_

_Oh yeah - one more thing - about the quote at the beginning of this chapter. I LOVE Disney's Beauty and the Beast and I always thought it was kind of weird when Gaston sang "so screw your courage to the sticking place... Gaston will lead the way." I didn't know it was from Shakespeare! Now I love that movie even more, although that is hardly possible! _


	7. Spock Wears Ugly Shoes

_If your time ain't come not even a doctor can kill you._ ~American Proverb

* * *

Pike watched the approach of the shuttle that contained his men, his eyes not leaving it from the moment it appeared on the horizon. Chris knew Sam was in the pilot position and even if Jim would have preferred to be flying, he was okay with Sam being in charge.

Pike waited patiently as Sam flew the shuttle directly to the roof of HQ, landing with barely a sound. McCoy and Sulu were waiting with him, and there was a gurney at the ready, two white coated technicians standing by.

Jim had called Hikaru at Sulu's house as soon as they were out of Chinese airspace, alerting him that Pavel was safe and they were on their way home. Sulu had contacted Chris directly after he hung up with Jim, and Pike had called McCoy, telling him to come down to HQ to prepare for the arrival of the shuttle.

As soon as Sam had the door to the shuttle open, McCoy boarded, making a bee-line to Scotty who had woken with the landing. Pike followed, careful not to get in the way of the doctor as he tended to Scotty. Pike could hear Scotty telling Colum that he needed to let mom know they'd be late for dinner and to tell her he was sorry. Sam promised he'd tell her and that Scotty shouldn't worry about it. Jim quietly explained how Scotty thought Sam and Pavel were his brothers, Pike nodding in understanding.

Chekov silently watched all that was going on inside the shuttle, finally breathing when Sulu entered. Pavel was engulfed in a hug by Sulu who held tight, his suspiciously shining eyes looking over at Pike.

"Well done, Pavel," Chris said, patting him on the back. "Once Scotty has been taken inside, we'll debrief."

"Da," Pavel agreed, still holding tight to Sulu.

McCoy was sitting on the edge of the bed, checking Scotty's vitals. He reported that his pulse was weak but steady. His stethoscope confirmed that his lungs were clear. "Let's get him inside. I'll clean and suture the wound."

The technicians transferred Scotty to the gurney, quickly getting him off the roof, McCoy following. The other men followed more slowly, very few words spoken by any of them. Pavel was talking softly to Hikaru. To Pike's ears, he sounded tired but not especially upset.

"Have any trouble getting them out?" Pike asked Jim as they went through the rooftop doorway that took them to the metal stairwell.

"Not really. The warehouses aren't guarded. And they were only 3 blocks away. Pavel did an excellent job getting him to the safehouse."

Pike nodded, waiting with Jim as the technicians maneuvered the gurney down the stairs.

"Why isn't there an elevator?" Jim asked.

"I have no idea. But since this building was originally a bank, I doubt they had many gurneys in the stairwells."

"True," Jim said, going down a few more steps as their tiny parade descended in unison.

Chris heard the door above them close with a thump just before he heard Sam's footsteps on the steps. "Shuttle secure?" he asked Giotto, looking up at him through the metal slats that made up the steps.

"It is," Sam agreed. "You want me to fly it back afterwards?"

"I'll have it returned," Chris said. "You can all go home after the debrief."

"I need to call Denise," Sam said as they stopped again to wait for the gurney to descend further.

"Of course," Chris agreed. They stopped as the technicians maneuvered the gurney through the door on the top floor, McCoy assuring them they would get Scotty to the operating room. And they would be informed of his condition. Chris nodded, watching them wheel Scotty down the deserted corridor and into the elevator before turning to Jim, studying him with patient, grey eyes. "You need to call Winona."

"She okay?" Jim asked as they went down the next flight of stairs at a more regular pace.

"Yeah. She couldn't reach you or Leonard. Worried her. So she called me," Chris explained.

"Where is she?" Jim asked. "The sun is nowhere near up in Iowa."

"London," Chris said.

"Oh. Okay. She told me last week she's coming out for Christmas," Jim told Chris with a grin. "You want to have a sleep-over while she's here?"

"I am not discussing any possible romances I may or may not have with you," Chris told him with a frown.

"Of course not. And it's just a coincidence that every time I call her, she's just hung up with you. Or she's about to call you. Or she has to hang up on me to talk to you," Jim said.

"Shut up. I _can_ have you killed. And Winona would still talk to me on the phone," Chris said.

"Have him killed anyway, please," Sam interjected. "Do you know what he talked about the entire trip home?"

"His latest novel," Pike said, shaking his head.

"My ears are still bleeding. _Spock_ said this. _Spock_ wants that. _Spock_ wears ugly shoes," Sam said, making Jim laugh.

"I _never_ said a word about his shoes, smart guy. He's the one you should have killed. Not me. He color-codes his edits," Jim said in great indignation.

"We know," Chris and Sam said simultaneously. Chekov and Sulu turned around at that, looking at them with a puzzled expression on both their faces. "Sorry," Chris said with a shrug. "Jim was whining about the hardships of being a best selling writer."

"Da," Pavel said with a nod. "Mr. Spock seems a hard case."

"See. The man-child understands," Jim said.

"He is not a child," Sulu said indignantly. "I'd thank you to remember that."

"At ease, Hikaru. Jim wasn't being ugly. You know that," Pike said smoothly.

"I know," Hikaru agreed. "I'm sorry. I was just so…."

"I understand, Karu. No harm no foul. That's why you had to stay behind," Jim reminded him kindly.

"I know," Sulu repeated, glancing over at Pavel. "Yeah. I wanted to go."

"Of course. I would have too," Pavel said, his color rising when Jim had to translate it into English. "Oh I am sorry."

"I understand," Sulu assured him with a light kiss. "It won't matter once I master Russian."

"Already you understand much," Pavel said with a smile only for Sulu.

"I have an excellent teacher," Sulu responded with a matching smile.

"All right you two. It was 2 days not 2 years," Chris said all stern gruffness.

"It felt like 2 years," Sulu told him.

"I'm sure it did," Chris said as they passed through the sturdy metal door to a wide corridor. It looked like a hallway in any bank in any town. Even the sounds were those of a standard business – computers, copiers, coffee brewing. The day for most of those working in that set of offices didn't officially begin for another 20 minutes but like on most days, those who occupied them were there already.

Many spoke to the men as they walked toward the conference room, Sulu waiting outside without Chris' reminder. One of the men nearest the coffee pot poured Sulu a large mug, settling him in an empty office to wait for the debrief to conclude.

The conference room was equipped with a six foot by six foot touch screen, already queued up to show the section of Hong Kong where they had so recently been. There was a circle around the restaurant where Chekov and Scotty had completed their mission, a dotted red line leading to the safehouse and a solid black line from the Pepsi warehouse to the safehouse.

"Are these diagrams correct?" Chris asked Pavel who was standing by the oval table close to the screen.

"The restaurant is correct," Chekov said with a nod. He approached the screen, using his finger to move the dotted red line a block west, skirting the more populous areas around the harbor. "We went here and then here," he said, adjusting the line to more accurately reflect their escape.

"Good," Pike said. "Scotty was shot at the restaurant?"

"Da. Here," Chekov said, touching the screen so that a red X appeared. "The shooter he was here." Touching the screen again placed another red X 20 yards away. Pike adjusted the mark so that it turned black.

"Were you IDed?" Pike asked.

"Not so much as we know," Pavel said. "We had no followers."

Pike nodded in approval. "And you went directly to the safehouse?"

"No one was seeing us as we entered the alley. No one approached. No one followed."

"Very good," Pike said. "Sam, you landed here?"

"Yes," Giotto agreed. Pike had put an icon representing the shuttle right on the Pepsi warehouse. "Qui-Jon is still there."

"We'll have it retrieved," Pike assured him. "So what do you think happened, Chekov?"

Chekov considered the question for a few thoughtful moments before telling the other men what had happened, step by step. Chris asked several questions, needing clarification or amplification. Chekov was descriptive and answered each inquiry with precision. He did not place blame for Scotty being wounded, telling them the facts without embellishment or excuses.

"You did an excellent job," Chris said when they had been discussing it for over an hour. Chekov was clearly exhausted but remained alert and attentive. "Are there any questions you have for us? Anything you need to say? It can be off the record if you like."

"Is it not good that Dr. McCoy has not called?" Chekov asked Pike.

"He can't call, Pavel. We don't have the phone on," Chris told him. "If something bad had happened, he would have come up and told us."

"Da," Pavel agreed in relief. "Jim and Sam vere experts at getting us."

"Good," Chris said with a nod, glancing at the other two men. "They've been doing this a long time."

"Sam a lot longer," Jim added, earning Sam's glare.

"I'm not too old to take you down," Sam reminded him.

"How well I know, old man," Jim said, grinning at him.

Sam just shook his head, turning his attention back to Pike. "Are you boys done?" Chris asked.

"He started it," Sam said just so Chris would frown at them even more.

Chris mostly ignored him, turning back to Pavel. "What else?"

Chekov shook his head, glancing over at Jim before speaking in Russian, Jim answering. "Nothing sir. That is all."

"You sure?" Chris asked, looking from Chekov to Jim and back. Jim shook his head with a smile, assuring Chris that Pavel really was all right. "Very well. If you want to talk to me any time today or tomorrow, you know all you have to do is call me. I'll come to you or you can come here."

"Da," Chekov said. "Thank you sir."

"Thank you, Pavel," Chris said with a smile. He stepped out of the conference, returning with Sulu and Dr. McCoy. Sulu hugged Pavel as Leonard told them that Scotty would make a full and complete recovery. He had some healing to do and he'd lost a lot of blood. He'd be released in a couple of days and would be confined to bed for about a week after that.

"Confined at our house," McCoy said. "Otherwise I know he'll be out chopping down trees before I turned my back."

"You tell Scotty?" Chris asked.

"Yeah. He's pretty doped up. I think he understood," McCoy said with a shrug. "And unless you need me, I need to get to my day job."

"Of course," Chris agreed.

Jim walked McCoy to the elevator as Chris talked quietly with Sulu, Chekov, and Giotto. "I'm serious, Pavel. I'm only a phone call away."

"Da," Chekov acknowledged. "I may call you after I sleep and eat."

"Good," Chris agreed. "Call me tomorrow at any rate."

"I vill," Chekov agreed, leaving with Sulu after a final farewell.

"He going to be okay?" Sam asked Pike when they were off the floor.

"He's going to be fine. He didn't fall apart. He took care of Scotty. He followed all of the protocol. He'll be just fine."

"Good," Sam said with a nod. "It okay if I go call Denise?"

"Of course," Chris agreed. "I'm going to my office. Unless you need me, you're free to go."

"All right. I'm gone once I call," Sam said.

Chris acknowledged his words, going to the elevator to wait for Jim's return. Once he had exited the elevator, Chris said he was going to his office and would Jim come? Jim naturally agreed, following Chris to his corner office with his oversized desk and small round conference table.

"So I called Spock," Chris said as they sat on the couch beneath the photo of San Francisco at sundown.

"Do tell," Jim said with a laugh.

"He was…put out. Wanted to know what it was that took precedence over your meeting with him."

"What'd you say?"

"That it was unavoidable and that you should be free all day tomorrow. He said he had time at lunch and would you be amenable to meeting him in his office? He'd have lunch brought in."

"Did you tell him yes?" Jim asked.

"I said I would talk with you and see if you had the time," Chris said with a smile. "Do you have the time?"

"And you won't have him killed for me?"

"Now Jim. We've talked about this. Your writing life and your secret life are two very different things," Pike said in a pseudo-patronizing tone.

"Yeah," Jim sighed. "Okay. I'll meet him for lunch. But he tries to feed me plomeek soup, I'm finding a new publisher."

"I'll tell him," Chris laughed. "Now go home. Call you mother. Go to bed."

"Yes sir," Jim agreed, standing and stretching. "Pavel did really well, Chris. Better than I ever would have hoped."

"That's good to hear," Chris said, walking Jim to his door. "And thanks for getting them home safe."

"You're welcome," Jim said, leaving his office, his laughter lingering behind him. It wasn't long before he reappeared in Chris's office, still laughing. "I have no way to get home."

"Oh right," Chris said, looking up at him. "That is a problem."

"Little bit of one. Who can take me?"

Chris left his desk to walk over the door of his office. "Brady," he called, one of the women turning around to acknowledge. "Take Kirk home."

"Of course," she agreed, pulling on her coat that she had just removed. "You ready now?"

"Sure am," he said, telling Chris good bye one last time before leaving, this time for home.

* * *

_AN: I didn't realize (until several readers expressed concern) that I left Scotty seriously wounded in Chapter 6 with doubts that he would, in fact, survive. I'm very sorry if I worried you. I really didn't mean to create so much suspense. And now that I've posted Chapter 7, I have no idea when Chapter 8 will be up. Yes, I'm still in the madness of NaNoWriMo - I have 11,899 of the required 50,000 words. In the good news, I am on schedule! 1,666 words per day is the rate you need to maintain. Well, was that TMI?_


	8. Underwear Makes Your Life Complete?

_Oh look, yet another Christmas TV special! How touching to have the meaning of Christmas brought to us by cola, fast food, and beer... Who'd have ever guessed that product consumption, popular entertainment, and spirituality would mix so harmoniously?_ ~Bill Watterson, Calvin & Hobbes

* * *

"What are you doing?" Bones asked Jim as he crossed the living room to stand next to the couch where Jim was reclining. The TV was on, another insipid Christmas special airing. Jim didn't seem to be watching it so much as using it as an exercise to strength his concentration by ignoring it.

"I _was_ napping. Not so much any more," Jim said with a frown up at Bones. "You're late."

McCoy shrugged, sitting on the couch next to Jim. "Yeah. Got caught up in an emergency. I checked on Scotty right before I left. He's complaining about still being in the hospital. So that's a good sign."

"Definitely," Jim agreed. "I roasted a chicken. It's in the oven."

"Thanks," Bones said, studying Jim. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. I slept off and on most of the day. Are you taking the stitches out of my arm tonight?"

"I'll have to check it first. How does it feel?"

"Tight. I talked to mom. She's still in London. Said she's coming on the 21st."

"Good. She staying with us or Chris?" Bones asked.

"Us mostly. She is still denying that she's seeing Chris. But I don't know why she bothers. She read Cereec'o."

"And?" Leonard prompted.

"She loved it. I told her about Spock. I'm a little afraid she's going to call him up and give him what for," Jim laughed.

"It's what he deserves," Leonard agreed. "When are you meeting with him?"

"Tomorrow for lunch. Can you come?"

"No I cannot. But thanks for asking. If you're worried, take Chris," Leonard suggested, going into the kitchen, Jim following.

"No," Jim sighed. "It will be fine."

"Yes it will," Bones agreed, taking the chicken out of the oven and putting some on the plate Jim had gotten for him. "Is Hikaru coming tomorrow?"

"Yeah at 3 o'clock. We're going to finalize the plans for Marjorie's party. Is Nyota coming to the party?"

"She's planning to. Did _you_ decorate the trees?" Bones asked with a frown.

"I was careful. Hikaru and Pavel came over for a little while. They helped with the highest limbs."

"Pavel didn't sleep all day?"

"He mostly lay on the couch and watched Hikaru. He seemed a little dazed but I think it's from being over-tired."

"Probably. Did he call Chris?" Bones asked.

"No. He will tomorrow. I think I'm going to go back to Paraguay in March," Jim said.

"Who are you going to visit?" Bones asked as he continued to eat his chicken and roasted potatoes.

"There is a small enclave of Inarakgha there. No more than 100 or so. According to the latest UNESCO report, only 75 of them speak Inarakghan. So that would be a good place be for Avery's next research," Jim said.

"Will you be able to transcribe it?"

"I think so. I called Desiree at UNESCO. She said the tribe is looking for someone to help with the preservation of their language."

"Sounds like you're in," Bones agreed. "Will Pavel have to go? Or will he be able to stand being away from Hikaru?"

"I told them today I was thinking about going. I don't want to wait until school is out. Pavel said he understood. We'll probably be there three or four weeks."

"Which usually turns into five or six weeks," Bones reminded him with an affectionate shake of his head.

"Yeah. Well. If we don't do the research, the book can't be authentic," Jim reminded him.

"As I am aware," Bones agreed. "Is this the book when Avery finally comes to his senses and proposes to Nerissa? Poor long suffering Nerissa."

"Maybe," Jim laughed. "You know he's so busy documenting endangered languages he barely has time for her."

"True. She is much better to him than he deserves."

"She is," Jim had to agree. "He will take her to the MacArthur Foundation Fellowship gala. Use some of his prize money to buy her a new dress."

"Forget the dress. She wants a diamond," Bones told him.

"I know," Jim agreed. "So does Nyota."

Bones snorted at him and got up from the table to put his dishes in the dishwasher before going with Jim to the living room where another Christmas special had replaced the one that had been on when Bones got home.

"Why do you even watch those specials?" Bones asked as he so often did.

"I have no idea," Jim admitted. "I thought _The Grinch_ was coming on."

"Because we don't have it on DVD," Bones said.

"I know. But then I don't get to watch the commercials for underwear and the latest electronics that will make my life complete."

"Underwear makes your life complete?" Bones asked. "Because I thought you usually didn't bother with it."

"I do so wear it. I have on some right now," Jim informed him.

"Then why isn't there ever any in the wash?"

"There is. When did you start doing inventory of my dirty clothes?"

"When you refused to do the laundry."

"That's what we have Hikaru for," Jim said.

"He's your research assistant. You shouldn't be havin' him do _your_ chores," Bones countered.

"Why would I pay him between projects if he's not our houseboy?"

"Good thing he doesn't mind. Anyone else would have quit a long time ago," Bones reminded him.

"He won't ever quit. Because he knows I'm awesome like that," Jim said with a smug grin.

"You are not awesome. You are a pain in the ass."

"Maybe. But I'm _your_ pain in the ass," Jim said.

"True," Bones had to agree. "Take your shirt off so I can see the wound."

Jim complied, laying on the couch so Bones would have easy access to his left arm which he had resting over his head. "How's it look?" Jim asked when Bones returned from washing his hands.

"It's healing," Bones said, gently rubbing over the stitches. "Does it hurt?"

"Not really. Feels tight."

"But it's not itching?"

"No," Jim said.

"Okay. Another day or two," Bones said, standing up. "I'm going to bed. What are you doing?"

"It's barely 9 o'clock. When did you become such an old man?"

"I've been up since 5 this morning. I couldn't come home and nap like _some_ people. I have to be at the hospital at 6 in the morning. And that makes me old?" Bones asked with a scowl.

"And cranky," Jim added.

"I hate you. Have I told you that lately?" Bones asked as he went down the hallway to his suite.

"You don't hate me. You love me," Jim corrected as he followed Bones into his bedroom to lay down on top of the covers.

"I cannot imagine why that is," Bones said, removing his suit in exchange for his pajamas.

"I told you to stop working so many hours. I can support us both."

"I have no desire to be kept by you. I'm a doctor for a reason," Bones reminded him as he went into his bathroom, the door still open so they could continue their conversation. "When you go into town tomorrow, can you stop by O'Conner's? They have a watch Nyota has been talking about. I want to get it for her for Christmas."

"Sure. Will you call and let them know so I get the right one?"

"Of course. You don't think I'd trust you, do you?"

"You should. I have excellent taste," Jim reminded him.

"You most certainly do not," Bones said around his toothbrush as he leaned against his bathroom doorjamb. "They also have a pair of diamond and ruby earrings she wants. If you got them for her for Christmas, she might hate you a little less."

"Nyota does _not_ hate me," Jim said in indignation. "It isn't my fault she was in a bar the first time I met her."

"But you didn't need to try to pick her up."

"She was in a bar."

"So were you. And you came away with a fractured cheek and a bloody nose."

"Again. This is why I have you," Jim said with a smile. Bones shook his head and disappeared back into his bathroom.

"Get off of my bed so I can go to sleep," Bones said when he stood next to it, his fists on his hips.

"Yeah yeah yeah," Jim agreed, getting up. "Sleep well."

"I will providing there are no 1 a.m. phone calls," Bones said as he got into his bed.

"There won't be. And don't wake me up on your way out. I don't have to get up until 10."

"Yeah. Like you'll sleep past 7 anyway."

Jim shrugged, going to the door and turning off the overhead light. "'Night."

"Good night," Bones said, closing his eyes and very soon drifting off to sleep.

* * *

_A/N: It looks like I might be destined to be a NaNoWriMo drop-out. My muses have abandoned that story, at least for now. That's the bad news. The good news, I guess, is that they are interested in working on this story. So fickle they are! One thing always remains the same - they love reviews! _


	9. 209 Revisions

_For a long time now I have tried simply to write the best I can. Sometimes I have good luck and write better than I can. ~_Ernest Hemingway

* * *

Jim stopped his BMW at the gate to the parking garage, accepting the ticket, wondering briefly if the House still validated. Well, no matter. He drove up to the top level of the garage, parking in the area with the roof, the open area further on covered with a light dusting of snow.

He entered the building that was now owned by The Shi'Kahr Clan on the 5th floor, the guard by the entrance from the parking deck recognizing him right away.

"Mr. Kirk," Gary said with a smile. "Good to see you."

"You too, Gary," Jim agreed. "New owners treating you okay?"

"Lot of changes. Lot of changes," Gary said, shaking his head. "I heard about Madame Kel'pol."

"Marjorie said she'll be fine. She's going to Tuscany, to eat lots of pasta."

"Good for her," Gary said, walking with Jim to the elevators. "You going up to see Mr. Spock?"

"I am. Did he tell you I was coming?"

"He did," Gary said. "Said I was to make sure you came straight up to the 14th floor."

"Of course," Jim said with a nod, entering the elevator when it arrived. "I'll see you in a bit."

"Very good, Mr. Kirk," Gary agreed, returning to his station as the elevator whisked Jim up to the top floor of the building.

Jim left the elevator to walk down the familiar corridor with the plush carpeting in carefully neutral tones. The walls were rich paneling, the building old enough to have been built when no one thought elegance was a waste of money.

There was a severe looking woman at the reception desk when he entered the suite with the carefully letters on the door that proclaimed _Shi'Kahr Clan_. He smiled at the Vulcan woman as he approached mostly so her non-expression of disapproval would deepen. He was sure she thought he'd wandered into the sacred space of the Clan by mistake, with his blue jeans and black leather jacket, a backpack slung casually over his right shoulder. She was dressed in typical Vulcan fashion, all stiff formality, her dress black and silver, high neck, long sleeves. Her hair was pulled tight at the back of her head. He fleetingly considered that she might be pretty if not for her dark almost-expression and the slightly militaristic style of her hair.

"How may I assist you?" she asked, her tone indicating that she was certain there was _no_ help for him from her or anyone else.

"I have an appointment with Mr. Spock," he informed her, barely disguising his laughter.

"I see," she said, eyeing him in near-disapproval. "Your name?"

"Jim Kirk," he told her. Her eyes widened slightly at that news and he had the impression she in no way believed him. Maybe she'd never looked at the back of his books. Or maybe she'd never read his books. Maybe she only read ancient Vulcan texts on logic.

"I will inform Mr. Spock," she said in an evenly cold voice.

"Appreciate it," Jim said with a nod. He nearly winked at her but even he had sense enough not to do it.

"Mr. Spock," she said into the phone after dialing 3 numbers. "Jim Kirk is here… yes sir… of course." She replaced the phone, standing behind her desk that had on it three computer screens, one phone and nothing else. "Come with me."

"Of course," he agreed, following her down the short hall. He wondered if she always looked so stiff and unyielding but it was hardly his problem. He did consider briefly about what had happened to the previous receptionist Helen but decided that was a question better posed to Marjorie.

The woman knocked sharply on the wooden door before opening it and waving Jim in.

"Thank you," he said to her with a smile because he knew it would annoy her that much more. She gave a sharp nod and turned and left as stiffly as she had come, closing the door behind her.

"Mr. Kirk," Mr. Spock said evenly from the center of the office where he was standing. The office was mostly unchanged from when the previous owner had occupied it, not that Jim had spent much time with Mr. Borino-Quinn. The office was furnished with the best, mahogany desk with only a computer resting on it, a glass topped table with four chairs gathered around it, a small couch and two wingback chairs grouped in front of the real fireplace which had a real fire crackling on the grate.

"Mr. Spock," Jim returned with a nod. Jim wasn't surprised that Spock was dressed in Vulcan business attire, all blacks and grey, his tunic well cut. Custom fit no doubt.

"Lunch will delivered momentarily," Mr. Spock said, waving Jim further into the office and going over to one of the wingback chairs. "We will sit while we wait. I will put your jacket in the closet."

Jim nodded, swallowing his laughter and removing his leather jacket. He would have liked to have kept it on only because of the additional disapproval it would cause but the temperature in the office was closer to Vulcan-normal and he knew he had to shed his coat. He sat in the wingback as Mr. Spock put his jacket in a discrete closet before sitting next to him. Jim had already put his backpack down on the floor between the two chairs. "I apologize for having to reschedule."

"Mr. Pike was not forthcoming when I inquired as to the reason for the delay," Spock said, studying Jim with hard black eyes.

"It was unavoidable," Jim said. "My schedule can be a little unpredictable."

"As Mr. Pike indicated," Spock said.

Jim nodded in agreement but did not further elaborate. "I've gone over your suggested revisions several times. There are some which I find particularly… discommodious."

"Which would those be?" Mr. Spock asked, picking up his copy off the small table between the chairs and the couch, the same color coded notes on the edges.

Jim reached down for his backpack, opening it to take out his edited copy, all of the tabs still in place. Some looked worn from repeated examination, some look pristine, some with notes on the edge. "On page 332," Jim said, waiting as Spock turned to the indicated page. "You wrote that Nerissa would request her own room. They've been dating for three books. And they've slept together for the last two. Why would she suddenly become a prude?"

"I did not intend to imply she had become a prude, Mr. Kirk."

"Jim," Jim said before he could continue. At Mr. Spock's raised eyebrow, he elaborated. "We are going to be working very closely together. You ought to call me Jim while you tell me how my book doesn't make sense."

"Jim," Mr. Spock agreed with a nod. "I do not believe your book does not make sense. It can be strengthened with appropriate revisions."

That was not what Jim had wanted to hear. He made himself take a deep breath before meeting Mr. Spock's eyes. "Like turning Nerissa into a prude?" he asked with a harder edge to his voice than he had intended to be there.

"Not in the least. Avery has been among the tribe for five days and nights. There were no bathing facilities for him to use. Would Nerissa want to sleep in the same bed with him before he had the opportunity to shower?"

Jim looked at Mr. Spock for a moment, gathering his calm and his thoughts before responding. "Nerissa has been with the tribe too. Once they checked into the hotel in Villarrica, they took a shower. Together. After she got him to focus on anything but his research." He could see Spock considering his words, turning them over in his head to find a flaw. Surely Spock had read the entire novel before making his edits. "Did you edit as you read? Or did you read to the end and then return to the beginning?" Jim could tell he had guessed correctly with the very tiny start Spock gave.

"It is possible that I was overly hasty in some of my initial editing," Spock agreed. He was clearly reluctant to admit that he had erred when in truth he had. "I have since read it again and revised some of my suggestions. Perhaps it would be helpful for us to consider them individually."

"You made 209 suggestions. Some major. Some minor. Do you have time to go over every one of them?" Jim asked.

"I do. When I originally spoke with Mr. Pike, I had another appointment at 1:30. That has been subsequently canceled. Are you available to discuss the suggested revisions?"

"I am. I don't have anything pressing to do this afternoon," Jim said, wishing like hell that he could think up a reason to have to leave. Except talking to Hikaru about Marjorie's party and getting to O'Conner's before 6:00, he was pretty much stuck listening to Mr. Spock tell him all the ways he was wasting his valuable time by pretending to be a writer. _Okay._ _That was a little harsh_, Jim told himself. He needed to calm down and he had no time to lose. To his relief, there was a knock on the door just before the receptionist entered with a cart that had covered plates on it. "I need to make a quick phone call," Jim said after Spock had spoken with his assistant.

Spock nodded at Jim who called Hikaru to tell him that they'd talk about the party tomorrow instead, Hikaru naturally agreeing.

"That will be all, T'Lura," Spock was saying in dismissal. She nodded and left, closing the door soundlessly behind her. "Moving to the table will facilitate our work and our lunch."

"Of course," Jim agreed, following him over to it. He waited as Spock uncovered the plates, accepting the chicken salad with his thanks. Spock kept the plate with all greens, putting it carefully on one of the black velvet placemats already on the table. Jim decided to go ahead and sit down, not feeling any particular need to supervise as Spock took out the silverware and the glasses from the second tier of the cart.

When they were settled at the table, Jim felt no urge to break the silence. If he didn't speak, he wouldn't say something he knew he would instantly regret. And Spock didn't seem inclined to start a conversation. Vulcans didn't eat in silence as a rule. So maybe Spock was also angry in his stoic nonemotional way.

"Why do you have your degrees in linguistics?" Spock finally asked.

Jim shrugged at that, sipping the cold water. "I didn't have any particular goal in mind when I went to University. I have an aptitude for language so I was encouraged to study linguistics."

"That you earned your PhD at 24 is impressive," Spock said, not sounding the least impressed.

"My masters program was accelerated. Some of the classes counted toward both. The field research also sped things along."

"Why did you select Paraguay?" Spock asked.

"Those languages need to be recorded before they become extinct. My advisor was going so I went with him," Jim said.

"That would be Dr. Richard Barnett."

"That's him. Man's a genius," Jim said with a laugh. "Funny. A little obsessive. Can tell you the 50 most endangered languages and where the largest concentration of speakers are."

"I have not met him. I have heard of his skill," Spock said with a nod.

Jim considered those words for a moment and wondered why they were making such a melancholy impression. On his heart. What was that about? So Spock had never met Richard. That was hardly important. And it certainly wasn't Jim's responsibility. In fact he couldn't even imagine why Spock would have ever met him. Or care to. That was going to take some additional thought. Which apparently Jim's brain decided was not all that essential. "I'm having a party for Marjorie on Saturday night," Jim's mouth said without his conscious permission. "Are you free to join us?"

"Saturday?" Spock repeated, studying Jim with a slightly unnerving intensity.

"Yeah. It will a pretty informal affair. Food, drinks. Marjorie will no doubt tell stories about me so my friends will have reason to laugh at me."

"I am free."

"Good," Jim said with a nod. "It will start around 7."

"What may I bring?" Spock asked.

"You don't need to bring a thing. But thanks for asking."

"If you are certain," Spock said, eating more of his salad.

"Of course. And you're welcome to bring a date. We'll have plenty of food."

"I am not currently in a relationship of an intimate nature," Spock said.

"Me neither," Jim laughed. "Much to the dismay of my mother. Thinks I should get married and stop going off to Paraguay."

"How many times have you been?"

"Nine, I think. Counting those trips I took because Richard wanted me to."

"Your journeys through Paraguay add a richness and texture to your story-telling that it would otherwise be lacking," Spock said, surprising Jim.

"Thanks. I guess I'm not hopeless after all."

"On the contrary. You are one of the most talented writers of this generation."

"I'd have never guessed that from your edits," Jim said casually, eyeing Spock and trying to figure him out. Even for a Vulcan, he was recondite.

"Again. I never intended that they be interrupted as…disparaging."

"I don't think they are disparaging. I think they are…well. It's not my place to say," Jim decided. The relationship between a writer and his editor reminded Jim of one between a student and his mentor. The place of the student was not to question the words of the one more experienced. Luke eventually learned not to question Yoda. Although that did take a while. _Crap. What was Spock saying?_ "I apologize," Jim said. "My mind wandered."

"A common trait with writers of your caliber," Spock agreed. "Perhaps if we review each of the suggestions, I will have a firmer grasp of your methodology."

Jim laughed at that, shaking his head. "I don't know that there is a method to my madness. The characters tell me what they are going to do and I write it down as fast as I can. Avery isn't as insistent as some. Andre is very hardheaded."

"I have heard of other authors speak of their characters in those terms. As though they are real."

"They are real," Jim said firmly, his blue eyes wide in his sincerity. "They are very much alive in my head. I can have the plot all laid out. Know exactly how they will get from A to B. Then they decide they just have to see what's over by C which leads them to D and E. They may never get to B and I have to accept that."

"Indeed," Spock said, listening with great intensity. "They dictate to you?"

"In some ways," Jim said, wiping his mouth before putting his napkin carefully on his lap. "They make their own decisions. If I try to decide for them, they rebel. They won't talk. They won't do anything. I have to believe they are real or they won't live and breathe."

"I see," Spock said. "Do all writers work in this way?"

"The successful ones do as I understand it," Jim said. "I have yet to find anyone who writes truly realistic characters that doesn't feel that way. Mandy Lutterbeck said she has to be careful not to get too attached to some of her minor characters."

"As they are inevitably killed."

"Exactly. It's been suggested that I treat my characters too well. That I mollycoddle them. But there is no way I can hurt them. I mean, I can give Avery yellow fever and Andre still limps because I broke his leg. But you can be sure that as long as I write the Paraguayan series, they will be in them."

"It gives the reader a sense of security," Spock agreed.

"It gives me one too," Jim agreed. "I have considered having something terrible happen to Avery's sisters Aubrey and Anna. But I just don't have it in me."

"Aubrey did miscarry her first baby," Spock reminded him.

"That was really hard for me and Avery."

"And his brother lost 2 of his football games afterward."

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "So maybe I don't completely protect them."

"They maintain their realism without you being overly harsh to them," Spock assured him.

"I'm glad you think so. Although I get the impression you think that there needs to be _more_ realism interjected into this book," Jim said.

"Not overall," Spock said. "However, is it not a little too convenient that Andre knows of a source of fresh water when they are stranded in the middle of the Chaco desert?"

"Well," Jim said, considering the question. "He's crossed it several times. Without Avery. His horse really found it."

"Yes," Spock said. But Jim could tell he was not convinced.

"If he doesn't find the water, they'll all die," Jim pointed out, trying hard not to sound defensive.

"That is not in question. Could it be that he recognizes that the growth pattern of the indigenous plants indicate a source not many kilometers away?"

"Yes," Jim agreed automatically. "He would know that. Okay. I'll fix it."

Spock nodded in acknowledgement, not the least triumphant although he deserved to be.

They discussed many of the other suggested revisions, Jim reluctantly agreeing to some, adamantly defending his writing in other situations, finding compromise for several. He was surprised when he glanced at his watch that said 4:45. "It has gotten late," Jim said, looking up at Spock who was studying him with a particularly unreadable expression.

"Indeed."

"I have a few errands I have to run in town. I'll make the revisions we decided on and get it back to you in a couple of days."

"I could collect it when I come to the party for Madame Kel'pol."

"That's fine," Jim agreed, accepting his black leather jacket from the closet. "I'll see you then."

"And you are certain that there is nothing I can contribute to the party?"

"Absolutely certain," Jim said. "And there will be plenty of vegetarian choices. So you don't need to eat before you come."

"I have no such concerns," Spock said, walking him to the door. "I will see you Saturday."

"Good," Jim said with a nod. "Thanks for your time."

"Thank you," Spock said, watching him walk down the hallway until he disappeared from view. Only then did Spock reenter his office, closing the door behind him.


	10. Good Friends Good Food Good Times

_Remember: "I" before "E," except in Budweiser._ ~Author Unknown

* * *

"You sure we have enough beer?" Jim asked from where his head was buried in the refrigerator.

"Yes, dammit. For the fourth time. We have enough of everything," Bones said with a frown, staring at Jim. "Get out of the frig before what's left of your brain freezes."

"I was just checking," Jim protested, closing the door and straightening up. "How's Scotty?"

"Ornery. Can't understand why he has to stay on the couch."

Jim shook his head at that. Many of the people coming to the party knew the unvarnished truth about Scotty. Those who didn't would be led to believe that he had hurt himself during one of the repairs he was forever doing around the house – both Jim's and his own. They didn't think they would be pressed for details so vague information was the safest way to handle it.

"Hikaru," Jim called from the kitchen.

"Stop yelling for him like he's a dog," Bones scolded as he continued chopping the fresh vegetables for the salad.

"I don't know where he is," Jim said in his own defense.

"What do you want him for?" Bones demanded. "Everything's ready."

"What?" Hikaru said when he appeared in the wide entryway to the kitchen. "Why are you shouting?"

"Sorry," Jim said with a shrug. "Did you go into the basement for the wine?"

"I told you I did," Hikaru said with an uncharacteristic frown. "Why are you being so needy? It's not the first party you've ever had."

"I am not needy," Jim said in a huff. "I just want everything to be perfect. You know. For Marjorie."

"Of course," Hikaru said, sarcasm dripping from the word. "Everything's taken care of. Take a freakin chill already."

"Don't you work for me?" Jim asked, reaching over the fridge for their biggest salad bowl. "Should you be talking to me like that? And where have you been?"

"I was checking your Facebook stats. You now have slightly more than 567,000 fans. Why that is I cannot imagine," Hikaru informed him.

"Because I'm utterly awesome. You know it. Everybody knows it. Did you update my status to remind them?" Jim laughed.

"I'm going to update it to announce what a pain in the ass you are," Hikaru said.

"You're fired," Jim said not for the first time. "Well. As soon as the party's over."

"Leonard," Hikaru complained.

"Shut up, Jim. Or he really is going to walk out and never come back," McCoy warned.

"He is not. Because he adores me. How could he not?" Jim said with a silly grin.

"Shut up," Bones and Hikaru said at the same time in the same tone.

Jim shrugged, tossing the salad with the dressing until he deemed it sufficiently coated. He handed it to Hikaru who put it on the buffet with some of the other food. The dining room table was already groaning under all of the dishes that had been placed there. One of the counters in the kitchen was covered with desserts and plates, ready for anyone who wanted to partake.

"I guess you expect me to get that," Hikaru said when the doorbell rang.

"If you don't have anything better to do," Jim said with a smile. Hikaru shook his head and went to the door, opening it to greet Marjorie and her date, Eric Higgins. He was a professor at the local university and they had been together, on and off, for three years. Jim and Bones thought that he was a fine man but Marjorie could do much better.

"Hikaru," Marjorie said, kissing his cheek before letting Eric help her out of her coat. "You are looking well."

"Thanks," Hikaru responded, smiling at Eric. "Professor."

"Good to see you again, Hikaru," Eric said, also giving his coat to Sulu who put them both in the closet.

"Jim and Leonard are in the kitchen," Hikaru said, waving them that way before going to see what Scotty needed.

"Marjorie. Eric," Jim and Leonard said in greeting, happy that the guest of honor had arrived.

"Hello, love," Marjorie said to Jim and Leonard in turn, kissing each of them. "This is for you." She extended the huge poinsettia to Leonard who took it with his thanks before placing it next to the foyer Christmas tree, adding to the festive atmosphere. "Are you coming to Tuscany with me?" she was asking Jim as Leonard returned.

"When are you flying over?" Jim asked while pouring several glasses of wine. Eric was helping himself to a beer at Jim's invitation.

"First of the year. Eric is coming until classes start back up. On the 14th?"

"The 14th," Eric agreed, pouring the beer into a clear glass stein.

"If Eric's going, what do you need Jim for?" Leonard asked.

"I don't speak Italian," Eric reminded them.

"I barely speak it," Jim said, shaking his head.

"You speak it well enough to help me find a place to live," Marjorie said with a warm smile.

"Are you movin' permanently, dear? Or just for a while?" Leonard asked.

"Just for a while," Marjorie said. "I only want a little apartment. A pied-à-terre if you will."

"That's French, not Italian," Jim laughed.

"See," Marjorie said. "This is why I need to come with me."

"I'll take it under advisement," Jim promised. "Spock may not allow me to leave town. If I don't finish all 209 revisions."

"209?" Marjorie asked, trying to suppress her laughter.

"Color-coded," Hikaru added as he crossed through the kitchen on his way to the front door.

"He told me that," Marjorie agreed. "209, huh?"

"Yes," Jim sighed.

"You poor thing," Marjorie said, shaking her head. "Is he coming tonight?"

"He said he was. I told him 7:00. You can bet he'll be here exactly at 7," Jim said.

"Of course. He's a Vulcan," Marjorie said, turning toward the foyer when he heard Chris talking to Hikaru. "Christopher."

"I always feel like I'm going to be kept after school when you call me that," Chris laughed, kissing Marjorie, shaking Eric's hand.

"Do you deserve to be in a time out?" Marjorie laughed.

"Not as much as Jim does," Chris told her.

"What'd I do?" Jim asked in complete innocence.

"Nothing yet. It's only a matter of time," Chris reminded him, everyone laughing.

"Is Richard coming?" Eric asked Jim when there was a pause in the conversation which had migrated to the living room. They were clustered around the fireplace, Scotty talking more _to_ than with Marjorie.

"He is," Jim agreed. "Please try not to fight with him all night."

Eric shook his head at Jim's words. "We don't fight all the time."

"Only when you're in the same room. Or conscious. Why are you always so angry with him?"

Eric shrugged innocently, sipping his beer. "Because he deserves it. His linguistic development theories are so much hogwash."

Jim sighed, shaking his head. "All right. If you're going to fight, please do it in the kitchen. Or the garage."

"You got it," Eric laughed.

"I warned Eliza that you were going to be here. Hopefully she'll have the same talk with Richard," Jim said, figuring it was ultimately hopeless. Eric was certain his theories were accurate which made Richard's completely wrong. Eric was still laughing as Jim went to the front door to greet the newly arrived guests, friends all happy to be included.

As predicted, Spock arrived precisely at 7, entering the house with a bottle of Vulcan wine as a host gift.

"Come on," Jim said when Spock's coat was in the closet. "I'll introduce you around."

"That would be appreciated," Spock agreed, his hands clasped at the small of his back. Jim thought he looked slightly disapproving in his black and gray Vulcan attire but then Jim hadn't really seen him looking any other way. Nearly everyone else had on jeans as did Jim and Bones, the parties at Jim's house always casual and slightly uncontrolled. But not in a bad way, in a _the neighbors have called the police again_ way. The fact that Jim's closest neighbors were in fact 3 miles away helped with that as well. And the sheriff, who was currently standing in his living room, would be the one called. If it ever came to that.

Jim started the introductions with the guests in the kitchen, where he put the Vulcan wine on the counter with the other less exotic wines. The Vulcan wine stood out with its sensuously curved bottle. "This is Dr. Leonard McCoy," Jim said, Spock and Leonard eyeing each other, measuring, weighing.

"It is good to make your acquaintance, Dr. McCoy," Spock said, not sounding at all pleased about it.

"You too," Leonard said, sounding even less happy. Jim hoped there wouldn't be a throw down between them but if there were, he'd just make sure he was clear of the fight. "Can I pour you a drink?"

"A glass of chardonnay," Spock agreed. Jim didn't miss Bones' frown as he turned to comply.

"This is Christopher Pike," Jim said when Chris wandered up. "I know you've talked on the phone."

"Several times," Chris agreed, studying Spock with a knowing eye. "Good to meet you."

"You as well," Spock said, accepting the glass from Bones without any acknowledgment. Jim felt Bones stiffen right before he left the kitchen. Jim tried very hard not to look directly at Chris who he knew would be laughing inside. "We must meet to discuss the terms of Jim's contract."

"Sure," Chris said casually. "I'll have my assistant call your office on Monday."

"Yes," Spock said. "Will you be accompanying Mr. Pike?" Spock asked Jim.

"Depends," Jim said with a shrug.

"On what, precisely?" Spock asked, sounding disapproving.

"My schedule. If I'm available. If Chris wants me there. You know."

"I do not know," Spock said evenly, looking from Jim to Chris and back.

"Jim does what he wants. For his own reasons, his own way," Chris told Spock with a laugh. "Nothing will change him. Though God knows I've tried."

"What? Now I'm a trained seal?" Jim asked, trying to sound indignant but not really succeeding.

"I failed to bring a bucket of raw fish with me," Spock said, to the surprise and delight of those who heard.

"Apples and pizza are much more effective," Chris said in a low voice as though he was confiding a real secret with Spock.

"If you'll excuse me," Jim said, shaking his head. "I'm going to find a cluster of people who actually like me."

"Good luck with that," Chris said as Jim left the kitchen, Chris and Spock talking casually.

"Where's the pointy-eared hobgoblin?" Bones asked Jim when he spotted him coming into the living room.

"Talking to Chris. I may or may not be the topic of conversation," Jim said with a shrug, turning to smile at Pavel who had rushed up to them. "Pavel."

"Jim. This is a kicky party!"

"Thank you," Jim said with a laugh. "Where did you stash Hikaru?"

"Last I saw, he vas talking with Dr. Barnett. Karu is thinking he vill go back to schooling in next semester."

"That makes sense," Jim said. "Although it may be too late for him to apply."

"Karu says he sent the papers already in. He did not say to you?"

"No," Jim said with a shrug. "Well. Richard will make sure he gets in."

"Da. This is what Karu says. You vill speak vith Dr. Barnett for him?"

"Of course. I doubt he'll need my help but I'll talk to Richard," Jim agreed.

"Da," Pavel said with an enthusiastic nod. But then he didn't do anything that wasn't enthusiastic.

"Have you seen Eliza?" Jim asked Pavel.

"Da. She and Madame Kel'pol are in your office. Talking," Pavel said.

"I'll go check on them," Bones said, wandering away and chatting with each guest as he came to them.

"He is angry?" Pavel asked, looking the way Bones had gone.

"Mr. Spock is rubbing him the wrong way," Jim said, smiling at Pavel's confused expression. He used the Russian equivalent, Pavel laughing in understanding.

"Vhere is Miss Uhura? She vill be cheering up the doctor?"

"That's an excellent question," Jim said. "I have no idea."

"I vill go ask him. Da?"

"Yes please," Jim agreed, turning to speak to some of the other guests as they came up to chat, including the sheriff who was in jeans and a denim shirt. That he was both a fan and a friend of Jim's helped cut down on the number of times his department would actually investigate an overly loud party at Jim's.

"I hear you're going to Italy with Marjorie," Sherriff Rosenstein said with a smile when there was a brief pause in the conversation.

"I haven't entirely decided, Burt," Jim replied. "I already have a lot going on."

"True enough," the Sherriff responded. "Sarah's always wanted to go. One day we will."

"Where is your beautiful wife?" Jim asked.

"Uhmmm…." the portly Sherriff said, glancing around Jim's crowded living room. "Well. Truthfully, I have no idea."

Jim laughed at that, shaking his head. "Marjorie and Eliza are in my office. Maybe Sarah's with them."

"That's probably it," Burt agreed, turning to talk to with another neighbor who had come up. Sam and Denise also came up, talking to Burt and Jim. Burt and Sam started talking professional football, Denise rolling her eyes in a good natured way.

"I'm going to see if I can drag the guest of honor back to her party," Jim said.

"I'll come with you," Denise offered. Jim gladly accepted her company, going down the hallway to his office. He wasn't surprised to find it nearly overflowing with women, laughing, gossiping, some nearly giggling. They greeted Jim and Denise, insisting that Denise join them. Among them was Nyota who turned her bright smile on Jim when he entered.

"Hello, love," Jim said, kissing her cheek.

"You are looking very pleased with yourself," Nyota said warmly. The other women agreed with her overall assessment.

"I have a house full of friends. They're all having a good time. I'm surrounded by beautiful women. Why shouldn't I be satisfied?" Jim asked with his most charming smile. "Where's Tahla? She came with you, didn't she?"

"She did," Uhura agreed. "The last I saw of her, she was mediating an argument between Richard and Eric on the linguistic origins of Japanese versus Chinese."

"At least someone is," Jim said. "I came to ask Marjorie if she wanted to return to the main party. But I see now that isn't going to happen."

The women laughed at him, Nyota putting her arm through his. "Come on. I'll help you find Mom."

"Okay," Jim agreed. "If y'all get bored, there are 209 corrections that need to be made to Cereec'o." They were still laughing as Nyota led him out of his office.

"I met your new Spock," Nyota said in a low voice. "Len said you were threatening to have him killed."

"Or kill him myself," Jim agreed.

"I can see why. Mom would disapprove but my heavens. He sure thinks highly of himself, doesn't he?"

"He does. He's very different from Marjorie," Jim said going with her into the sunroom where they found Tahla, Eric, Richard, Chris, and Spock, sitting on the wicker furniture and engaged in a lively debate about noninterference policies as they related to underdeveloped countries and/or planets. Jim heard enough of it to know that Spock didn't share the opinion of the Humans gathered, that Vulcan should share the technology that made their interstellar travel possible. Jim was in the 'we are ready to go out there' camp but the number of Humans who were of like minds was of no interest to the Vulcan High Council. They would share their technology when they saw fit – not before. And Jim knew that no one would persuade them otherwise. "I'm glad you found something to discuss that hasn't yet erupted into fisticuffs."

They laughed at his words, everyone except Spock naturally. He gazed at Jim as though he had begun speaking an unfamiliar language. Well, it wasn't the first time someone had looked at him like that. "I didn't say hello when you came in," Jim said to Tahla.

"You were nowhere to be found," she agreed, standing gracefully to accept his hug and light kiss. She looked especially splendid in her blue silk top and black pants. She wore flat shoes so she did not tower over Jim. Her salt-and-pepper hair was swept up in an elegant knot on top of her hair, blue rhinestones peeking out. "I thought maybe you had returned to Paraguay without telling anyone."

"Of course not," Jim said with a smile. "I'd tell you so I could convince you to come with me."

She shook her head at him. "You are an invariant flirt, aren't you?"

"You can't be surprised," Nyota told her mother.

"I'm not, dear. I simply believed age would mellow him."

"Maybe it still will," Jim said to her with a saucy wink.

"Not likely," Tahla said, shaking her head. "If you gentlemen will excuse me, now that I've found Jim, I'm going to take the chance to talk to him." The men gathered naturally agreed, Nyota accepting their invitation to join them. Leonard was coming into the sunroom as Jim and Tahla were leaving, Jim winking at Bones.

Jim and Tahla went into Leonard's office that was empty, mostly because that door was kept closed. Not that there was anything particularly personal except for some medical records on the desk that he had brought home from the hospital to review over the weekend.

"The Consortium met yesterday," Tahla said in a low voice. She and Jim were sitting on the leather loveseat, certain that they would not be overheard outside of Leonard's office. "They asked that I make sure to thank you for getting Scotty and Pavel out safely."

"It wasn't such a big deal," he assured her. "Sam did the heavy lifting."

"Not what he told me," she said brightly. "No matter. We're a little concerned about your new representation."

"Marjorie never figured it out, Tahla. Do you think Spock will?"

"He's a Vulcan, dear. Smarter than the average bear. Chris can keep him in the dark for a while. But I am frankly concerned he's going to grow overly curious about your frequent and unexplained absences."

"What are you proposing?" Jim asked, a sinking feeling in his stomach he was trying very hard to prevent from showing up on his face.

"Nothing drastic, darling," Tahla assured him, one of her hands covering his. "Just that you take a short sabbatical. At least until you're ready to return to Paraguay. You can detour on your way and put in some hours for the Consortium. Keep your certification current."

Jim considered her words, turning them over in his mind. He'd been a member of the Consortium for longer than he'd been a published author. They had put him through college, undergrad and graduate school. The fact that they saw his potential as a linguists was much of the reason for their initial investment. Now the North American bureau chief was telling him that he needed to step away from his secret life. And he didn't know how to feel about that.

"It's only temporary," Tahla said kindly. "For your protection."

"Mine? Or the Consortium's?" he asked. He very nearly sounded bitter but she was not surprised. Nor would she ever hold it against him.

"What do you imagine would happen if Spock discovers you are not only one of the leading linguists of this or any generation, but also one of the most feared assassins?"

"I'm not an assassin. As such," Jim said.

"Of course not. You are much more than a mop-up artist. But the fact still remains that at the Consortium's behest, you have taken out at least four dozen of the world's worst criminals," she remained him, a note of pride in her voice. "How do you suppose Spock or his father would react to that?"

Jim sighed. Juggling two lives, being called on to use his skill at language, for good in all its various forms, going out on assignment - yeah, sometimes it was all too much. Rarely. But sometimes it just was. Not to mention being a best-selling writer. He never intended to be a cultural icon. Seriously. _Damn_ Ophra and her _damn_ book club. "I don't know."

"You know I understand," Tahla said quietly. "Look at it like a vacation. You can finish your 209 color-coded edits. Talk to the NY Times book review editor. Sleep. Swim. Run. Plan a wedding for Nyota and Leonard. Go to Tuscany with Marjorie."

"You've been busy," he said with a laugh. He shouldn't be surprised she had learned all of that in short order. Nothing got past Tahla Uhura. "_If_ I agree, can I kill Spock first?"

She laughed at that, a lovely, light sound that eased his mood. "Now, darling, you know you can't mix your two lives like that. He'll relax, I promise. He's afraid of disappointing Sarek. And of scaring you off. He has next to no experience as an editor. I'm pretty sure he knows he's in over his head. But when Sarek tells you are going to be an editor, you are an editor."

"Have you talked to Sarek?"

"I haven't yet. But I plan to. I'll call as one of your patrons. He won't be overly surprised. As you were once a starving writer slash professor of linguistics. If the Consortium had just let me buy House Net'no'kwa, all of our lives might have been simpler," she said. There was no bitterness in her voice because she would always do what the Consortium advised. And one day she would be the international head of it. It was only a matter of time.

"Why did they say no?" Jim asked.

"They were afraid it would initiate an investigation into all of my holdings. It would take a very long time to find any ties to the Consortium but they were not willing to risk it," Tahla explained.

"I guess that makes sense," he agreed reluctantly.

"Will you take the sabbatical?" she asked warmly.

"I'd like to talk to Chris and Bones first," he said. "It's a big step."

"No one is asking you to leave the business, darling."

"I always thought no one leaves alive," he laughed.

She shook her head at that, smiling at him and warming his heart. "Your mom did. Proof enough, isn't it?"

"I figured they fired Winona. For bossing everybody around."

She shook her head again. "She thought raising her babies was more important. I'd say she made the right decision. Especially after George was killed."

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "Did she tell you she's coming for Christmas? I'm not sure if I'm the reason or Chris is."

She laughed at him, her dark eyes sparkling in amusement. "I'm sure it's a toss-up. Are Sam and Aurelan coming?"

"She didn't say," Jim said with a shrug.

"She didn't say or you didn't ask?" Tahla asked with a knowing smile.

"Both," he said. "They can come if they want. He's the only brother I have, after all."

"I don't suppose you told him he's welcome?"

"No," he admitted. "You'll come for dinner while she's here, right?"

"Of course. You only have to tell me when. Maybe I can even drag Kheri along with me."

"Where is your wayward husband?" Jim asked.

"Ireland? I'm not entirely sure. He should call tomorrow."

"Come in," Jim called at the light knock on the door. "Hey."

"Your guests are asking about you, although I cannot imagine why," Bones said, coming the rest of the way in to close the door.

"Aren't they _our_ guests?" Jim asked with a laugh.

"I'm the anti-social one," Bones reminded him.

"Should you be saying that in front of your future mother-in-law?" Jim asked.

"I already know, dear," Tahla assured Jim. "Nyota loves him anyway."

"Surprisingly," Jim said, shaking his head. "The Consortium wants me to take a sabbatical."

"How so?" Bones asked, looking from Jim to Tahla. They explained what Tahla had said, Bones giving it serious thought. "Wasn't he going to be sent to the cocaine cartel's winter summit?"

"No," Tahla said. "We were planning to send Sam and Hikaru."

"I see," Bones responded. "How do you feel about stepping away?"

"I don't know," Jim admitted. "I can't imagine being out of it for any amount of time."

"I can understand that," Bones said. "Well. Put on your party face so we can go back out. Chris is planning to stay over. We can talk to him tomorrow."

"That will help," Tahla said with a warm smile. "They aren't angry. You know that, right?"

"I do," Jim said.

"And your pay won't be interrupted."

"Like he needs it," Bones grumbled as they went to the office door. "You could not pay him for the next year and he'd never notice."

"That's _so_ not true," Jim protested. "I'm one book royalty away from being out on the street."

"What street? 5th Avenue? Isn't this house paid for?" Bones asked as they went back into the living room.

"Maybe," Jim said with a shrug, speaking with the party-goers still clustered in the open space around the crackling fire.


	11. News From the Clubhouse

_A decision is what a man makes when he can't find anybody to serve on a committee. ~_Fletcher Knebel

* * *

Jim wandered across the living room the next morning, hands scrubbing through his hair that stood up even more. He carefully skirted around the plates and silverware that had been left on every horizontal surface, glasses half empty and turned on their sides, the Christmas tree missing some of its ornaments. _When had that happened?_

The delicious smell of coffee greeted him when he reached the kitchen, finding it surprisingly tidy, most of the party debris cleared away. "You clean up?" he asked Bones who handed him a steaming cup of the nectar of the gods.

"Hikaru did," Bones said, sitting at the table with Jim and Nyota who had greeted Jim brightly when he entered.

"This morning?"

"Yeah. He and Pavel left about 20 minutes ago. They thought you'd be up but I told them you'd barely slept and I'd have you call when you were up to it."

Jim nodded, staring into this coffee. "How can you look so beautiful at such an ungodly hour of the day?" he asked Nyota.

She laughed at his words, shaking her head and making her ponytail swish. "It's 9:30, my dear. Just because you didn't sleep doesn't mean the rest of us didn't."

"I have reason to suspect that _sleeping_ was not at the top of your list of priorities," Jim suggested, not surprised when Nyota hit him. Bones threatened to but Jim just ignored him.

"You are a pig, aren't you?" Nyota said with a laugh she could not contain.

"Last night I was a seal," Jim said. "According to Chris. Where is he?"

"Right here," Chris said when he entered the kitchen in jeans and a sweater, unlike Leonard and Jim who were still in their flannel pajamas. Nyota was wearing the shirt from a pair of Leonard's pajamas, the red flannel looking elegant on her. But then a potato sack would look elegant if Nyota was wearing it.

Chris refilled his coffee cup before putting it on the table and studying the three of them in turn. "Y'all want waffles?"

"Yeah," Jim agreed, his chin propped on his hand, the only thing holding him upright, Bones and Nyota also agreeing. "How's Scotty?"

"Still asleep," Bones said. "I promised he could walk around the house today as long as one of us is here."

"Good," Jim said.

"Do you have any idea what I just said?" Bones asked sympathetically.

"Some. Scotty. Walking." Jim shrugged, drinking again from his cup.

"All right," Bones said, shaking his head. "You're going to have to take a nap this afternoon."

"Yeah. I'll throw Scotty off the couch and sleep to football," Jim agreed, turning his gaze to Nyota. "Will you nap with me?"

"Stop being a pig," Nyota said, hitting him again.

"You are a pig," Bones agreed. "So, Chris, what do you think of Jim taking a sabbatical?"

"I understand why they're asking," Chris said.

"Did they tell you in advance?" Jim asked him.

"No. Tahla apparently intended to discuss it with me but time got away from her. She told me last night that it's solely for your protection. They are absolutely satisfied with your work," Chris said as he mixed up the waffle batter.

"They really aren't disappointed in you," Nyota added. "They don't want to risk Spock discovering the truth."

"Marjorie never did," Jim reminded them.

"No she didn't," Chris said. "They are leaving it up to you. They prefer you to step out for four months. They will not require that you do so."

"What happens when I'm back in? Won't Spock figure it out then? I'm available all the time then suddenly I'm not?" Jim said.

"There is that," Bones agreed.

"Yeah," Chris acknowledged. "It's not ideal. I think their main concern is that he's a Vulcan. Marjorie never notices that you're incommunicado and some criminal kingpin dies under mysterious circumstances. Spock will see patterns."

"But when I come back in, he'll see them," Jim repeated.

"Maybe they think the sabbatical will throw him off the scent," Bones suggested. "Criminals die while you're around. He won't notice the correlation between you being gone and them being killed."

"Marjorie always believed I was just eccentric. Won't Spock believe that too? You know most writers are borderline crazy," Jim said.

"You are completely crazy. It's only a matter of time before he figures it out," Nyota reminded him. "Mom thinks it's for the best if you do it."

"Why are you hesitant to take the sabbatical?" Chris asked kindly. "I'd think you'd appreciate only having to live one life. Not fly all around the world at crazy times. You'll be able to eat regularly. Sleep regularly. Date regularly."

"As if anybody would go out with him," Bones said because they expected him to.

"_As if_," Nyota agreed.

"I really don't know," Jim admitted. "Except I've lived like this for so long, I'm not sure how it'd feel not to. Will it get boring? Having a routine?"

"Boring is the last thing your life will ever be," Chris assured him, giving him and Nyota each a crisp brown waffle.

"Thanks," Jim said, accepting the syrup from Nyota to pour an excessive amount over his waffle and ignoring Bones' frown. "Any bacon?"

Chris laughed and got it out the refrigerator to put some in the microwave. "Anything else I can get for you, your majesty?"

"Not at the moment. We appreciate your diligence," Jim said, eating his waffle, the syrup dripping down his chin.

"Wipe your mouth," Bones said, handing him a napkin. "I think the sabbatical will be good for us both."

"You're stepping away too?" Jim asked.

"I told Tahla that if you are taking time off, I was too. I'm not going out there with any of those other crazies."

"I'm very happy about him taking the time off," Nyota added, leaning closer to Leonard. "Give us a chance to plan a real wedding."

"I'll be thrilled to, darlin'," he assured her with a kiss.

"Yeah yeah yeah," Jim grumbled around his waffle "You won't even go on a mission with Sam?"

"Especially not Sam," Bones said. "Last time I did, he nearly killed me."

"That's a little over-dramatic," Pike said with a laugh. "It was only a broken collarbone."

"_Only_?" Bones said. "I couldn't do surgery with a broken collarbone."

"And the mortality rate at the hospital plunged," Jim said, dodging Bones' hand when he tried to smack him. He couldn't dodge Nyota's at the same time. "I am going to have a huge black and blue mark because of the two of you."

"The hate I feel for you knows no bounds," Bones said to Jim, disproving his own words by refilling Jim's coffee cup.

"Jealousy. That's all it is," Jim said, accepting the bacon from Chris. "Thanks, Dad."

"You can call me that again and I _will_ have you killed," Chris warned, looking over at the entrance to the kitchen when Scotty limped in, one crutch secure under his arm.

"I'll take him out if you want," Scotty offered, sitting at that table and assuring Leonard he was fine. He greeted Nyota, gracing her with a light kiss.

"You've been living in my house for over a week and this is the gratitude I receive?" Jim asked him with an attempted frown.

"I've been held prisoner here by the mad doctor. The sooner I'm able to escape his experiments, the happier I'll be," Scotty claimed as he accepted a waffle from Chris. "Thanks."

"I see that personality transplant failed to take," Bones said. "You still don't have one."

This comment was met with gales of laughter, even Scotty having to join in despite his best efforts.

"I'm escaping tomorrow. Even if my operatives have to come free me," Scotty said.

"_We_ are your operatives," Jim reminded him.

"I have Hikaru and Pavel in my pocket," Scotty claimed.

"Hikaru works for me. And Pavel's too busy being in Hikaru's pants to be in anybody's pocket," Jim said.

"James Tiberius Kirk," Chris said in scolding. "We aren't having that kind of talk at the breakfast table."

"Sorry," Jim laughed. "But this is why I think of you as an honored and revered father figure."

"Shut up," Chris requested, giving him another waffle, Nyota refusing a second one.

"Yes sir," Jim agreed.

"What have you decided about the sabbatical, laddie?" Scotty asked Jim.

"I'm leaning toward taking it. But it's going to be very strange to be away from the business for any amount of time."

"I can understand that," Scotty agreed. "We aren't going to abandon you."

When Jim did not respond to that statement, Bones' eyes grew wide in realization. "That's one of the reasons, isn't it?"

"I guess," Jim said with a shrug. That it was less carefree than he would have liked did not surprise him. He felt rather than saw Bones and Chris exchange a knowing glance.

"Jim," Chris said, sitting next to him. "This is still going to be the clubhouse. Hikaru will still work for you. Pavel will still sleep here more than at his apartment. I'll be here just as much as I ever am."

"And I have no plans to be leavin' you," Scotty assured him.

"We'll all be here," Nyota agreed. "As much as you annoy me, I couldn't stand to be away from you for 4 months."

"It's fine," Jim protested directly to his waffle.

"Jim," Bones said. "You aren't going to be marginalized by your friends. They love you for who you are, not because you are the top of the echelon. We're going to have just as many people trooping through the house all hours of the day and night."

"You will," Nyota agreed, a warm hand on Jim's arm.

"Really, it's fine," Jim protested again, finally looking up at his friends, warmed by their presence and their expressions of friendship. "What abandonment issues?" he joked lamely.

"You don't have abandonment issues," Bones said. "You have 'why don't they know I'm utterly awesome' issues."

"I can always count on you to put it in perspective," Jim said with a laugh.

"Always," Bones agreed, glancing over at Chris. "Chris is still your lawyer. Scotty still fixes anything that breaks. Hikaru still works for you. Pavel inexplicably worships you. Nyota will be here mainly for me but she can tolerate you. Sometimes. Sam will be over here as often as Denise lets him. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," Jim agreed.

"All right then," Bones said with a nod.

"It's settled?" Chris asked, returning to making the waffles. "Do you want me to call Tahla and tell her?"

"I'll call her," Jim said.

"I can just tell her when I get home," Nyota offered.

"Thanks, love. But I'll need to call her," Jim said.

"That's fine then," Chris agreed, looking at the phone when it rang. "It's Spock."

"Oh," Jim said. "I didn't return the draft last night."

"Hello?" Chris said when he picked up the phone.

"I am calling for Jim Kirk," Spock said on the other end.

"And who may I ask is calling?" Chris asked, purely to annoy Spock and make Jim laugh.

"This is Spock," he answered. Chris could tell Spock knew it was Chris on the other end but wasn't about to admit it.

"Hold just a moment," Chris said, stifling his laughter to hand the phone to Jim.

"Hello?" Jim said like he didn't know who it was.

"Jim," Spock said in greeting.

"Hey Spock. Thank you again for coming last night," Jim said.

"Thank you for the invitation. You have a lovely house and interesting friends."

"I do have interesting friends," Jim agreed. "I'm glad you got to meet them. You aren't scared away, are you?"

"Vulcans do not scare easily," Spock said. Jim thought he could detect the faintest amount of amusement in his voice but he could be wrong.

"That's good to know," Jim said.

"While I was there, I did not pick up the revisions."

"I know. I forgot to give them to you. Should I bring them to your office tomorrow?" Jim asked.

"Is that convenient to you?" Spock asked.

"Sure. It's no big deal. Do you want me to email you the revised document?"

"Do you have it complete?"

"Yeah. Well. If I email it, do I need to come tomorrow?" Jim asked. There was a pause on the other end before Spock finally responded.

"If you were to come, we could discuss any additional revisions that might be required."

"Additional revisions?" Jim repeated. He left the table when the others laughed at him.

"Indeed," Spock said, the word not as firm as Jim might have expected.

"I guess," Jim said in some uncertainty. "What time is good for you?"

"Would you care to join me again for lunch?"

"That would be fine," Jim agreed, still not sure what the point of this really was. But if Spock wanted him to come, he would come. "Noon?"

"Yes," Spock agreed.

"Do you want me to invite Chris to come? You can talk about my contract at the same time."

"No," Spock said too quickly. "I will speak with him separately."

"Okay," Jim agreed. "I'll email the revisions right now and I'll see you at noon tomorrow."

"Yes," Spock repeated. "Noon."

"Right," Jim said, waiting to see if Spock had anything else to say.

"Very well. Good-bye."

"'Bye," Jim said, disconnecting and returning to the kitchen. "He's weirder than I thought."

"Even for a Vulcan?" Bones asked.

"Yeah. Well. It's a free lunch, right?"

"There's no such thing, laddie," Scotty reminded him.

"True," Jim agreed, finishing his coffee before standing to stretch. "Well. I guess the living room isn't going to clean itself."

"It never has before," Bones agreed. "I'm going to throw on some jeans and take Nyota home."

"Isn't that convenient?" Jim said, trying to sound put-out. But they knew it was all for show.

"You are just strange. You know that, don't you?" Nyota asked as she followed Leonard into his suite. It wasn't long before they both emerged, Nyota in the same outfit she had worn to the party.

"I'll be right back," Bones assured Jim.

"You better be. I'm not cleaning all of this up by myself," Jim claimed, indicating the mess in the living room with a broad sweep of his hand.

"My heart bleeds for you. You know that, right?" Bones asked as he helped Nyota into her coat.

"It should," Jim said, picking up some of the plates and glasses and taking them into the kitchen where Pike was tidying. Scotty was safe on the couch, grumbling about not being an invalid.

"We need anything while I'm out?" Bones asked.

"I'm good. Scotty? Chris?" Neither of them needed anything so Bones went out of the house with Nyota as Jim and Chris returned to their cleaning.

By the time order was restored and Jim had taken his shower, Bones returned, finding them in the living room watching the football pre-game show. Chris had on fresh jeans, his sliver grey hair still damp from his shower.

Jim reached over for the phone when it rang, smiling as he answered. "Hey mom."

"Hello darling. How are you?"

"Couldn't be better. What about you?" he asked.

"I'm great. I'm also at the airport. Is it okay if I come to your house now instead of next weekend? If it's not convenient, I can call Tahla."

"Of course you should come here," Jim said. "Is everything okay? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, darling. I got done early in England and decided to come see you instead of going to California first."

"Did you buy _all_ the high fashions in London and Paris?" he asked, getting her laughter in return.

"Almost all of them. I bought you a couple of nice dress shirts. I think you'll like them."

"I'm sure I will," Jim agreed. "Do I need to come get you?"

"No, dear. I'm renting a car. Easier all around."

"If you're sure. You know I'll come out for you."

"I know you will, dear. But I need a car anyway. So this works."

"Okay. We'll see you soon," he said, disconnecting after their words of farewell. "Looks like you're going to have a date tonight," he said to Chris with a laugh.

"Yeah me," Chris said. "Go Team Pike."

"Do I need to clear out, laddie?" Scotty said.

"Of course not. You know she always stays in the Jane Austen room. I'll go make up her bed," Jim said. He went down the corridor to the guest room where his mother always stayed, stripping the bed as Bones entered with fresh sheets.

"Why is this the Jane Austen room again?" Bones asked as they made up the bed.

"Because," Jim said, looking the pale pink walls and the Victorian border at the top of the walls. "It always reminds me of a room in one of her novels."

"Makes sense, I guess," Bones had to agree.

"So what do you want?" Jim asked.

"Maybe I just came to give you a hand," Bones responded.

"Yeah. Sure. With no ulterior motive," Jim said, shaking his head.

"I mostly want to make sure you're okay with the sabbatical. I know it's going to be weird, kid. But we aren't turning our backs on you," Bones said.

"I'm fine. I think mostly I'm worried I'll be bored. I don't want to work on the next novel until we go back to Paraguay. I guess I could start it," Jim said with a shrug.

"I know," Bones assured him. "As strange as your life can be at times, it's what you know."

Jim sat on the bed, considering Bones' words. "At least it's Christmas. That will make it easier. Having Mom here. Pavel being out of school. You'll have more free time."

"I will," McCoy agreed, sitting next to him. "You can help me and Nyota plan our wedding. Go Christmas shopping. Bake cookies."

"You still have to officially propose to her. And I usually do my shopping in some exotic country. Buy the cookies in Berlin. Or Tokyo."

"It will be different," Bones said with a nod. "You might enjoy it."

"I might. If I don't go crazy from boredom."

"You won't," Bones promised. "We could get a dog."

Jim laughed at that, shaking his head. "Now I know you're worried. I told you I won't get one until you're dead."

"Yeah yeah," Bones agreed.

"Do you think I can still get the mission updates if I'm out of it?"

"Of course. You aren't being booted. We're stepping away from active status."

"Yeah," Jim agreed with a nod.

Once the Jane Austen room was ready for Winona, Jim and Leonard returned to the living room, putting more decorations on the tree to even it out, speculating on what happened to those that had gone missing. Chris had put on a roast for lunch, thinking it would be ready shortly after Winona arrived.

"Trying to prove you can cook?" Jim teased as he watched Chris peel the potatoes. "Mom can't, you know."

"I don't need to prove anything to Winona," Chris assured him, otherwise ignoring him. "There's the doorbell."

Jim laughed and went to open the door for his mother, hugging her tightly when she was in the house. "I'm so glad you could come."

"Thank you, dear. I'm glad I could come as well," Winona said, smiling at Leonard and Chris as they came up to greet her. "Leonard, you are looking well. Chris," she said, not adding anything to that.

"So good to see you," McCoy said, kissing her cheek before Chris did too. Chris escorted her further in, Scotty greeting her from where he was sitting on the couch. Jim and Leonard slipped out of the door, going to Winona's rental.

"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked, sitting next to Scotty with a smile.

"Doing fine, lassie. I'm escaping tomorrow."

She nodded at that, taking off her coat and handing it to Chris. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Chris said, putting it in the closet before opening the front door to let Jim and Leonard in with Winona's two large suitcases.

"That blue one, Leonard. Leave it in the laundry room?"

"Of course," McCoy agreed, going through the kitchen to deposit it as directed. Jim went down to the Jane Austen room, putting Winona's suitcase on the luggage rack.

"What's wrong, dear?" Winona asked as she entered the bedroom, studying him with eyes nearly as blue as her son's.

He explained, Winona considering the situation, her fingers pulling through her blond curls, loose and unconcerned and stopping at her chin.

"She's right, you know," Winona finally said. "I've met Sarek. Not Spock. If anyone was going to figure out that you are not _just_ a best selling writer, it would be the Shi'Kahr Clan."

"How do you know Sarek?" Jim asked. He was sitting on the brass bed and she was in the old wooden rocking chair, one of the few items he had wanted from the Iowa farmhouse when Winona finally decided to sell it.

"I've met him, dear. I don't specifically know him. He expressed some interest in purchasing The Tsuyayaka Koromo Boutiques. Ultimately he decided upscale clothing boutiques were not appropriate to the Shi'Kahr Clan holdings."

"What is he like? I haven't met him," Jim said.

"Very Vulcan. Serious. All business when I met with him. I think that even if he had made Mizuki an offer, she would have refused. She didn't like him one bit."

"She didn't?" Jim laughed. "She's the most open-minded person I've ever met."

"She is. But not when it comes to Sarek," Winona said. "How is Marjorie doing?"

"Great. I'm sorry you missed her party last night. I'm pretty sure we had a great time," he laughed.

"And I'm sure you didn't drink anything stronger than Pepsi," she said with a smile.

"I may go to Tuscany with her. Since I'll be on sabbatical. Eric may go too," Jim said.

"I think it's a fine idea, dear. You love Italy. I know you aren't that fond of Eric but he's not terrible company."

"He's not," Jim agreed. "Mostly he needs to stop fighting with Richard."

"Yes he does," Winona agreed.

"What have you been up to?" he asked, wanting to know everything that had been occupying her time. Growing up he had resented her frequent and unexplained absences. He had acted out in an attempt to attract her attention, something she finally understood. The second time one of his stunts broke his leg, she decided that raising her two sons was the most important work she could undertake. Now that he was an adult – at least chronologically – he understood her choices much more clearly and had worked very hard to mend the rift that had existed between them, a rift he readily acknowledged was mainly his fault.

"No way," he laughed when she told him about a date she had barely survived in Prague.

"I know," she said, shaking her head. "He was… so attractive I didn't realize how dumb he was."

"You always were a sucker for a pretty face," he teased.

"And you aren't?"

He shrugged. "I'm not seeing anyone if that's what you are asking."

"Why not, love? You could have your choice of dates. I know men and women throw themselves at you all the time."

"Maybe the ones that are that easy aren't interesting to me," he suggested.

"You do like a challenge," she agreed with a loving smile.

"Sometimes," Jim said. "Are you going out with Chris while you're here?"

"What did he say when you asked him that?" Winona asked.

"He threatened to have me killed. Seemed a little extreme if you ask me," Jim laughed.

"So did it teach you not to ask nosey questions?" she asked.

"Not at all. Are Sam and Aurelan coming here for Christmas?" Jim asked.

"I don't know, dear. I didn't invite them. I'm not in the habit to inviting anyone to visit someone else's house," she said cheerfully.

"This is your house too, mom. Surely you know that," Jim said.

"Thank you, baby. If you want to ask them, it would be lovely to have them here."

"I'll call them," Jim agreed. "Can Aurelan leave work long enough to come?"

"I believe so," she said, smiling over at Chris when he appeared in the doorway. "Hi," she said in a voice her son found a little disturbing. Not in a creepy way. Just in that way you don't necessarily expect your mother to sound when talking to your lawyer/boss.

"I'm…uhm… going to check on the potatoes," Jim said, standing up and bolting for the door.

"You do that," Chris agreed with eyes only for Winona. "We'll be there in a while."

"Right," Jim said, closing the door behind him.


	12. Mango is Typographical Errors

_Sometimes it's a form of love just to talk to somebody that you have nothing in common with and still be fascinated by their presence._ ~David Byrne

* * *

Jim arrived at Spock's office the next day precisely at noon. The same receptionist with the same disapproving expression escorted him to Spock's office door, this time without bothering to call first. She wasn't any nicer but at least she looked less like he smelled badly.

"Hey," Jim said in greeting when he entered the office, Spock standing behind his desk at his entrance.

"Jim," Spock said, nodding to the receptionist who silently left. "Come in and sit."

Jim did, sitting in the wingback chair next to the one Spock settled into.

"I reviewed your revisions," Spock said evenly.

"Are there 209 more color coded revisions I need to make?" Jim asked with a laugh, his blue eyes sparkling even more.

"On the contrary. There are 7 typographical errors. There are 13 misspelled words. And one discontinuity in your timeline. Other than that, we are ready to begin the printing process."

"Thirteen misspelled words?" Jim asked. How was that possible? He'd used spell-check. He always did. Religiously. And the Cereec'o words were spelled correctly. He'd had Hikaru double-check behind him.

"They are mainly transpositions between i and e," Spock explained.

"Then why wouldn't spell-check find them?"

"I am uncertain," Spock said. "I have highlighted them in this copy."

Jim accepted it, flipping to the first post-it note. Apparently chartreuse was spelling errors. "Oh. Well."

"The mango notes are the typographical errors."

Jim shrugged at that, not bothering to look at any of them. "Yeah. I know that happens. I get word dyslexic sometimes. I can also be numerically dyslexic. That's why Chris takes care of all my finances."

"He is an accountant as well as a lawyer?" Spock asked.

"No," Jim laughed. "He has accountants on his staff."

"He has a large contingent who work for him?"

"Mmm…. Not really. There's him and his assistant. Janice Rand. You may have spoken to her. Or your assistant has. There's Sam Giotto. He's head of the accounting pool. He has three staff accountants working for him. Not CPAs. Not yet. When they get their certifications, they usually leave. Sam never did."

"Indeed," Spock said. "You are fortunate that one firm can handle all of your business transactions."

"Very fortunate," Jim agreed. "Chris has been my lawyer since I published my first book. Thank goodness. I don't know what I would have done without him."

"As is often the case with creative individuals such as yourself," Spock said. "I talked with Miss Uhura at your party. I was not aware that she was the same Uhura who had the opening at the Txui'I Vat."

"That's her. She's an incredibly talented sculptor, isn't she?"

"She is. I have been an admirer of her work for five years."

"Chris is her lawyer too. He's used to dealing with us creative types. It doesn't bother him too much when we're flighty and can't keep track of regular stuff."

"Regular stuff?"

"Phone bills. Mortgage payments. I nearly had my car repossessed twice because I kept forgetting to send in the payments for it," Jim laughed. "Chris finally took over and I haven't been threatened by debt collectors since."

"Do others threaten you on a regular basis?"

Jim laughed at that, shaking is head. "No. Chris occasionally. And Marjorie would. But that's about it."

"That is reassuring," Spock said.

"I prefer it that way," Jim agreed.

"Are you interested in having lunch at the restaurant on the 8th floor?"

"Sure. I've been several times. They have great food. Or they did. I mean, did you change the menus?"

"We did not. We requested that they include additional vegetarian dishes and several traditional Vulcan dishes. We did not require that they remove any of the favorites already established."

"Good. They make killer meatloaf," Jim said.

"I do not believe it has ever caused anyone to succumb," Spock said, Jim laughing at him.

"Probably not," Jim said. "I have been witness to several fist fights when there was only one serving left."

"Indeed," Spock said, going out of his office and down to the elevator, Jim easily keeping pace.

The stylishly dressed hostess greeted them formally, escorting them between the tables covered with pristine black tablecloths to a secluded booth. Jim had the impression that only Spock was given that particular table in the far corner. The restaurant had ambient lighting that was welcoming and would make it difficult to spot anyone not interested in being seen. There was very faint music being played, classical Earth music by Pachelbel, the sounds of the other diners muted and subdued. Jim felt many of the patrons' eyes on the two of them as they passed.

"Representatives with the Oprah Winfrey program contacted me this morning. They requested that you appear on her television series on the publication date," Spock said when they were settled in the booth and the hostess had sauntered away.

Jim sighed at that, picking up the menu in order to pretend to study it. He lowered it when the waitress appeared, looking stern and decidedly unfriendly. Her all black ensemble gave her an air of inapproachability rather than the formality it was intended to convey. Jim had a fleeting thought that she was looking at him with such intense displeasure that he was surely about to be accused of being the father of her unborn child. As he looked more closely, he realized he'd never met her and that she was in fact a Vulcan. That made it doubly certain that the child could not be his and her scowl was apparently her normal expression.

"Mr. Spock," she said with a curt nod before focusing on Jim who smiled up at her. He thought he saw a very faint melting of her frozen visage but could not be entirely certain. "Sir."

"I will have a glass of chardonnay to begin," Spock said.

"Of course, sir. And for you?" she asked Jim.

"Pepsi, please," he requested.

"Certainly. I will return momentarily," she said before turning to walk away.

"Why were you cringing in her presence?" Spock asked. Jim thought he detected a faint air of amusement but he couldn't be absolutely sure.

"What makes you think I was cringing?" Jim asked. His question was met with a silent stare. "Well. I thought… oh never mind."

Spock nodded slowly, studying Jim intently. "Shall I call the Oprah Winfrey program and tell them that you will appear as requested?"

"I hate doing publicity. Is it really necessary? I'm #12 on the Amazon preorder list. Seriously. How much publicity do I need?"

"It is important that you remain in the public eye."

"Even though I hate doing it?" Jim asked.

"It never appears that you are uncomfortable. You chat easily and answer smoothly."

"Thanks. But Chicago in February?"

"It is unfortunate – the timing. Friday I was contacted by the people at The Daily Show. I believe Jon Stewart desires an interview."

"His show I'll do. He makes me laugh. And it's only 4 or 5 minutes. Oprah can be an hour, less commercials. Has she already made it a book club pick?"

"That is my understanding," Spock agreed, accepting the glass of wine from the waitress after she had given Jim his Pepsi. "Have you decided on your meal?"

"I'd like the meatloaf. Oh – you don't mind, do you?"

"Not in the least," Spock assured him.

"Good," Jim nodded. "With mashed potatoes. No gravy. And broccoli."

"Yes sir," she said, focusing on Spock. "Sir?"

"Eggplant parmigiana. No salad."

"Yes sir," she said, walking away.

"I have noticed that you do not drink alcohol," Spock said. "Do you object that I am having a glass of wine?"

Jim laughed at that, shaking his head. "Of course not. I can't drink wine. I'm allergic to the sulfates. That's actually how I met Bones."

"That is Dr. McCoy?"

"Yeah. I didn't know I was allergic and was at one of Nyota's openings. I was drinking white wine when I nearly went into anaphylactic shock. Bones happened to be at the opening and stopped me from suffocating."

"Fortunate. You were unaware of your allergy?"

"I knew that sometimes I got woozy from wine. But I apparently built up antigens to it over time. That last glass was the final straw, so to speak."

"Do you have the same reaction to other spirits?"

"Not beer or the hard stuff. I don't like beer especially. I can drink any of the liquors except tequila. It makes me sad. As in 'the world would be better off without me' depressed."

"I have heard of others who react in that manner to tequila," Spock agreed. "I enjoy most spirits although they do not react to Vulcan physiology as they do to Humans."

"Even though you are half Human?" Jim asked.

"Most of my physical traits are Vulcan," Spock said.

"I guess that makes sense," Jim said. "Is it true what they say about Vulcans and chocolate?"

"That depends on who 'they' are and what 'they' say," Spock said, savoring his wine and Jim's laugh. And if he noticed that Jim's eyes seemed that much bluer with that much more of a sparkle, well, who could blame him?

"'They' say that chocolate is an intoxicant to Vulcans," Jim said.

"It has a relaxing effect," Spock said, not fully answering the question. Not that there was actually a question in Jim's last statement.

"Relaxing, huh?" Jim said, laughing again.

"Indeed. You still have not agreed to appear on the Oprah Winfrey show," Spock pointed out.

"I know. I was hoping you'd forget," Jim admitted with a laugh. "But that's not going to happen, is it?"

"It is most unlikely that I will fail to remember," Spock agreed. "I was told they will also be calling Mr. Pike's office."

"Oh great. A double-team."

"Precisely," Spock confirmed.

"All right," Jim conceded. "Tell them yes. But you have to come with me."

"And why is that?" Spock asked.

"So you can suffer in the cold and snow too," Jim laughed.

"How delightful," Spock said, making Jim laugh harder.

"I knew you'd be thrilled," Jim said, looking up at the waitress as she returned with their meals. "Thank you."

She nodded, focusing on Spock. "Anything further, sir?"

"Not at this time," Spock said in dismissal. "I was on the internet last night and found several sites which seem devoted to derivatives of your work."

"Fanfiction sites you mean," Jim said.

"Fanfiction," Spock repeated, considering the term.

"Yeah. Fans of the Paraguayan series use the characters to write their own stories about them."

"They infringe on your copyrights?" Spock asked in some disapproval.

"Technically I suppose they are. But they aren't making money from them."

"Has Mr. Pike demanded that they stop?"

"Of course not," Jim said with a laugh. "I would never stop fanfiction writers from basing their stories on my characters. They do it as a labor of love."

"I do not understand," Spock admitted.

"Well," Jim said, considering it. "Is there a movie or book that you are particularly fond of? One you have read or seen more times than is strictly logical?"

"Yes," Spock said reluctantly.

"Let's say it's _Star Wars._ I'm not saying you've even seen them but for the sake of argument, let's say you are a huge _Star Wars_ fan. You would write stories about what Luke did after the second death star was destroyed. What life was like for Leia and Han once they got married. What their children were like. Were they Jedi? Did Leia enter the training?"

"This is a hobby of some people?"

"Gracious yes. Google Star Wars fanfiction some time. You'll be amazed at the amount of it that exists. There are thousands of sites devoted to nothing else."

"I was unaware," Spock said. "And your stories are subject to this treatment?"

"It's not a bad thing," Jim assured him. "It shows their devotion to the series. Some writers won't allow fanfiction based on their works. I think they are incredibly short sighted. If someone cares enough about Avery and Nerissa to write their own stories about them, I say have at it. I know Avery and Nerissa have gotten married several hundred times. They have between 1 and 21 children, depending on the writer. People in Canada tend to give them more children for some reason. I've read stories where Rich sleeps with Andre, Anna sleeps with Andre, Aubrey sleeps with Andre. All God's children seem to sleep with Andre. Well, not Avery. But almost everyone else."

"Fascinating. And you do not object?"

"I don't," Jim said shaking his head. "I'm thrilled."

"Yet they are taking liberties with your creations."

"I guess. But if someone reads a fanfiction story and has never read one of mine, they might decide to read an original to see what it's all about."

"I see," Spock said, considering this. "Have you ever discussed this hobby with any of the amateur writers?"

"Sometimes I do. There is a website called _Avery and Andre's Big Adventures_. Periodically the maintainers of the website will email Chris or Marjorie and ask if I'll answer questions. If I'm available, I'll do live chats."

"That is very generous of you."

"Not really. They are real fans and are always appropriate. And friendly. And frankly it's a little embarrassing. But it's a lot of fun."

"And people such as George Lucas do not object?"

"No. He thinks it funny too. That they do it. Not that I've ever met him. I'd like to but I never have. I've read interviews where he said that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery and he'd never try to stop fanfiction writers."

"I had no idea," Spock said.

"Did you read any of the stories you found?" Jim asked in curiosity.

"Several. A few were fairly well written. A few were abysmal. Several were quite… steamy."

"Some of them can be," Jim laughed. "Since I generally don't include actual sex, fanfiction writers make up for it."

"As I noticed," Spock said. "Do you read them?"

"Very rarely. If someone sends me a link, I might. Because the story was exceptionally good. Or exceptionally bad. Chris tends to read more of them than I do."

"In order to determine if they are violating your copyright?" Spock asked.

"Mostly because he has an insatiable curiosity. And when I'm in the on-line chats, he's on with me, answering some of the questions. Because he's probably read the stories even though I haven't."

"He reads them all?" Spock asked.

"No. But there are some very popular writers. The queens of the genre. Everyone reads them."

"Queens?" Spock repeated.

"Most of the writers are women. Other genres attract more men. But not in the same numbers."

There was a pause in their conversation when the waitress returned to inquire as to whether or not they would care for anything further. Jim asked for a cup of coffee, Spock refusing anything more. After clearing away their dishes, she left to return right away with a steaming cup of coffee.

"When did you move to Earth?" Jim asked Spock.

"I was twelve."

"What did you think when you got here?"

"It was cold," Spock said, thinking back on that day when he first step foot on Earth's soil. "We arrived in late January. During a snowstorm. I expressed some concern about the inhospitable conditions. Mother assured me that it was not always so cold. Father said that Earth has variable atmospheric conditions."

"That was hardly reassuring," Jim laughed.

"I preferred my mother's response," Spock agreed. "I was enrolled in the Intergalactic Academy."

Jim nodded at that. He knew several people who had attended that school, the institution renowned for the mix of cultures that flourished within its walls. "Were there many other Vulcans?"

"There were 23, counting me. There were 2 Orions, 1 Andorian, and 4 Sulibans. There were children from nearly every continent, including twins from Paraguay."

"Did everyone speak English?" Jim asked.

"Yes. It was a requirement. There were lessons in their native tongues as well. And math is a universal language."

"Not to me," Jim said with a smile.

"Your mastery is in words," Spock agreed.

"And yours is in physics. Which again begs the question."

Spock nodded, not attempting to pretend he didn't understand the saying. "One does not easily defy one's father."

"I guess not," Jim said. "But doesn't he know that forcing you into a profession for which you have no…interest is doing neither of you a favor?"

"I do not believe he considers my interests of any consequence. He is a man of immense determination."

"It's still your life," Jim said.

"Vulcan tradition is very rigid when it comes to parental roles and responsibilities. This is why most Vulcans are bonded at a very young age."

"Most?" Jim asked.

"I was not bonded because of my mixed heritage. As I am a child of two worlds, I am not considered a suitable mate."

"I'm sorry."

"I am not," Spock assured him. "It offers me freedom which most Vulcans are denied."

"There is that," Jim said. "But not enough freedom to decide your own destiny."

"Not yet," Spock had to agree. "Did you know it was your destiny to be a writer?"

"No. I had a some what unusual childhood and I never really thought about what I'd be doing when I grew up."

"Unusual in what way?"

"My mother was a vagabond. She loved to travel. Sometimes she took me and my brother with her. Sometimes we stayed behind. I had visited 12 countries before I turned 10."

"Thus your skill in languages," Spock said.

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "There was a time when I thought everyone could speak three or four languages. When I entered school and most of them could only speak English, I was sure they were kidding. Studying linguistics in college made sense."

"I can understand how it would," Spock agreed. "Would you like another cup of coffee?"

"No. I'm good," Jim said, wiping his mouth and watching Spock stand by the table. "Don't we need to pay?"

"They will charge it to the company account," Spock said. Jim nodded at that, leaving the table and returning up to Spock's office with him.

"I've taken enough of your time," Jim said when they arrived.

"I have nothing pressing to do," Spock said, sitting on the couch and looking up at Jim. "Perhaps you might remain for a little while longer."

"You want me to stay?" Jim asked, looking down at Spock to try and figure out what he was actually asking.

"Yes," Spock agreed, continuing to look up at him. Jim saw an expression in Spock's eyes that was unexplained and unexpected.

"Sure," Jim agreed, sitting in the chair where he had sat before they had gone down to lunch. He had had every intention of leaving, gathering his backpack and going home. So why was it he was now sitting in Spock's office, watching Spock watch him? "What do you do when you aren't working?"

"I play the Vulcan lute. I am learning to play the piano. I research the latest physics theories and determine whether or not they have any validity. I practice va'sumi. I read."

Jim nodded at that, studying him silently. "Go out on dates?"

"From time to time. I have not recently."

"Why's that?" Jim asked.

"There is no particular reason. I had not met anyone who interested me enough to pursue a relationship of that type."

"You hadn't?" Jim repeated.

"Not until recently," Spock clarified, looking away from the bright blue eyes that saw too much for his comfort.

"This person. That interests you. Have you told this person how you feel?" Jim asked in a low voice. It was soft and coaxing and impossible to resist.

"I have not as of yet," Spock said, his tone matching Jim's.

"What's stopping you?"

"Perhaps a concern that this person will fail to reciprocate."

"You won't know until you ask," Jim said, moving from his chair to sit on the couch, his body turned to face Spock. Spock gazed back at him silently, their eyes locked.

"If you were interested in this other person," Spock said quietly, his tongue peeking out to just barely trace his lips. "What would you say in order elicit a response?"

"It would depend on how well I knew this person. If we'd been acquainted a long time, I'd suggest we go out for drinks. Followed by a movie. Then see what happened. If we hadn't known each other very long, I'd say we should have dinner. For a start. Maybe it would turn into more. If both parties were willing."

"More?" Spock asked, watching Jim with shining black eyes.

"Maybe it would turn into breakfast too."

"Would your approach be different if you had very recently shared lunch with this person?"

"If that were the case, I might ask this person if we could adjourn to my place, to discuss the possibilities of a relationship in a more comfortable setting," Jim said.

"Your place is much too far away," Spock said, Jim nodding.

"Where do you live?"

"In this building. In the penthouse," Spock said. He was drawn toward Jim, unable to resist leaning that much closer. His senses were filled with the very essence of the other man, the smell of wind and sun and grass. And apples. It was intoxicating and mesmerizing.

"Isn't this the top floor?" Jim whispered, mirroring Spock's movements, his body slowly leaning closer to the warmth of Spock's.

"The top public floor," Spock said, his words caressing Jim's lips as they dusted past. "I very much want to kiss you."

Jim did not bother to answer except for capturing Spock's mouth with his own. The kiss was exactly as Jim would have imagined it if he had taken any time to consider the possibility. It was hot and tender and just the right amount of awkward for a first kiss.

"Mmm…" Jim sighed when he backed away only enough to see Spock's face, his cheeks painted a faint green. "Nice."

"Yes," Spock agreed, initiating the next, tongues shyly greeting one another. The tastes were new and familiar and rich and sweet. "Will you have an allergic reaction to the wine I drank?" Spock asked softly.

Jim shook his head, kissing him again. "Not to worry. Unless I actually drink it, I'll be fine."

"That is reassuring," Spock said, leaning further away, one hand on Jim's chest. "Is it too soon for me to ask you to come to my penthouse?"

"Not for me," Jim said with a smile. One that was irresistible. And Spock knew Jim knew it.

"I did not think you had any interest in me outside of our required working relationship," Spock said, enjoying Jim's touch as he ran his fingers through Spock's thick black hair, a light finger tracing the pointed tip of his ear.

"You are hot. And smart. And a great dresser. Why wouldn't I be interested?" Jim asked, leaning closer to silently request another kiss. Spock was willing to provide it.

"Perhaps we should adjourn to my apartment before we risk discovery," Spock suggested.

"Will they know when they find you missing?"

"It is of no consequence. One advantage of being in charge is that they will have no one to tell."

Jim laughed at that, standing up and looking down at Spook. "Will this turn into breakfast?"

"I have no way to predict," Spock said, standing and kissing Jim. Jim took an unsteady step backward, afraid they'd never make it upstairs if he did not put some distance between them. Spock understood and went to the wooden doors that Jim had always thought led to a closet. Instead, they opened to reveal a private elevator which Spock entered, waiting silently for Jim to follow. The elevator was wood and mirrors, small but not cramped.

"Convenient," Jim said, examining the elevator casually.

"It is advantageous," Spock agreed. He reached over and began to unbutton Jim's shirt, Jim watching his elegant fingers with a smile.

"Don't you want to kiss me while you do that?"

Spock nodded, moving just that much closer to capture Jim's mouth, his unbuttoning continuing as they kissed.

"You are very good at multitasking," Jim said, looking down to discover his jeans were also undone.

"It is one of many talents," Spock said, pulling Jim into a kiss and backing out of the elevator. By the time they were out, Jim was down to his briefs and was wondering if he would be able to find his shoes when it came time to leave, whenever that time came. Spock's clothes were scattered across the foyer that extended from the elevator to the kitchen. To the left was the living room, accessed by going down three deep steps. On the right side of the room were three steps that led up to a large table with six chairs, the open kitchen just beyond. Tucked in the corner of the upper area was a grand piano in rich mahogany, the color echoed in all of the floors, cool under Jim's bare feet. If he hadn't been completely distracted by Spock's kisses and roaming hands, Jim would have considered how beautiful the apartment was. Elegant but still comfortable.

Spock continued kissing Jim, limbs tangled as they stumbled together down the hallway until they arrived in Spock's bedroom which was dominated by a huge platform bed. They tumbled on it together, mouths consuming, exploring, tasting, knowing.

Were Jim writing the encounter rather than living it, he'd have described the fierce heat that ignited between them. Skin in contact with skin that was familiar and perfect and unknown. He would have used sensual and evocative words to tell about bodies fitting together perfectly, gracefully, bodies created to join and rejoice.

As it was, as he was living it, his mind nearly shut down from sensory overload. Not that he would have ever written that. He avoided clichés like the plague _(oh Lord clearly that didn't preclude him from thinking them. And what color post-it note was for overused trite turns of phrases?)_ All random, disconnected thoughts ceased as Spock kissed him once more and his brain melted.

When his eyes finally fluttered open, when he was once again in bed, no longer only in the loving-space they had created, he found Spock watching him with an expressive mix of warmth and amusement.

"Will this encounter appear in one of your books?" Spock asked, kissing Jim's swollen lips, licking them to gather his taste.

"Are you spying on me?" Jim asked, stretching his right arm over his head.

"Not at all. I am aware that writers take their experiences and use them as fodder. And I would never enter your mind without your permission. Surely you know this."

"Mmm…. Yeah," Jim said, turning on his right side to better see Spock's gloriously bare body. "You are seriously hot." His left hand traced the light dusting of dark curls on Spock's chest, following the magic trail to the thick cushion of curls between his thighs.

"Vulcans are several degrees warmer than Humans," Spock agreed, making Jim laugh.

"You know I have no interest in the relative core body temperatures of our species," Jim said, petting Spock's relaxed penis that had so recently filled Jim with unspeakable pleasure.

"I do know," Spock agreed, kissing him again. "What is this scar from?" he asked, gently lifting Jim's left arm to run a finger down the line that was still red and uneven.

"Well," Jim said, knowing this talk was inevitable. "There are things about my life you can't know. Things I am not willing to discuss."

"I see," Spock said, considering those words. "Those 'things'. They also are responsible for this scar which can be from little else but a bullet wound?" Spock said, very lightly tracing a ragged circular scar on Jim's right shoulder.

"Yes, it is one of those things. I can talk to you. I _will_ listen to you. I can make love to you. I would have your babies if I could. But I can't tell you why I have this scar on my shoulder."

Spock nodded, looking at Jim and seeing the sincerity in his blue eyes.

"You can accept my lack-of-explanation and make love to me again. Or you can tell me you can't live with that and I'll leave. Our only relationship will be a professional one. It's your choice," Jim said, leaning closer to kiss Spock. "I'm very much hoping you choose making love to me without asking about the scars."''

"May I make one additional inquiry?" Spock requested, not demanded, wanting to make sure he understood completely before he could agree to those terms. Not that they were unreasonable or he had any intention of refusing them. The place deep inside him that had been achingly empty for longer than he was willing to admit to even himself was beginning to fill up. He was not going to risk what he had found for the sake of inappropriate curiosity.

"If it's not related to the scars and why I have them," Jim said, tracing Spock's ear, admiring the gentle sculpture of it, the delicacy of the tip, the firmness of the lobe.

"Will there come a time that you can discuss it?" Spock asked.

"'_The time has come', the walrus said, 'To talk of many things: of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings.'_"

Spock knew that quote from the times his mother had read him _Through the Looking Glass_. It did not answer his question but he knew it was the only answer he would receive. He shifted so that he was laying fully on top of Jim, gazing down at the bright blue eyes that sparkled up at him. "I accept your terms," Spock whispered against Jim's lips before covering them with his own so that no response was possible.

* * *

_A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours! Hope it's a wonderful day filled with family, friends, and good food! _


	13. Say Goodbye, Jim

_The best kind of friend is the one you could sit on a porch with, never saying a word, and walk away feeling like that was the best conversation you've had._ ~Author Unknown

* * *

"Hey," Bones said as Jim walked into the house. It was strangely quiet, not that Jim minded. Just an unusual occurrence.

"Hey," Jim responded, sitting on the couch next to his friend, smiling when he felt Bones' eyes on him.

"If he hurts you, I swear on all that is holy, I _will_ kill him," Bones said quietly and sincerely. Jim nodded. There was no need to ask who _he _was or how Bones knew.

"Where's Mom?"

"Out on a date with Chris," Bones said. "You hungry?"

"Yeah. Did you make dinner?" Jim asked, watching the fire pop and spark.

"I stopped for Italian. When you didn't answer your phone, I figured you were…busy."

"Yeah," Jim said, glad that the color did not rise in his cheeks. He was a grown man. There was no reason for him to be embarrassed that his best friend knew why the _meeting _with his editor had lasted six hours.

"Is he good to you?" Bones asked.

"Very," Jim agreed with a smile. A warm, contented smile. One Bones rarely saw but rejoiced in.

"What did you say about the scars?"

"That I couldn't talk about it. And if he couldn't live with that, I had to leave. He won't ask again."

Bones nodded. "I left your dinner in the oven. Should still be warm."

"Thanks," Jim said, slowly standing to stretch, looking down at Bones. "Come on. I'll buy you a drink."

Bones shook his head but stood even so. "If I'm not mistaken, I bought all the liquor in the house."

"Because you drink it," Jim said, going into the kitchen, Bones close behind.

"Not all of it."

"Scotty go home?" Jim asked, taking the pan out of the oven.

"Hikaru and Pavel came and got him according to the note they left on the frig," Bones said, sitting at the table and watching Jim.

"Good," Jim said, also sitting at the table. "How was your day?"

"It was fine. You know," Bones shrugged. "The Christmas schedule came out. I have off Christmas Eve and Christmas day."

"No way," Jim said in surprise.

"Yes way. I said I'd work New Years. Nothing more exciting than patching up drunks."

"Are you on call?"

"No. M'Benga is covering Christmas. He has several residents he's scared into helping him. I'm in the clear."

"That's awesome cool," Jim said with a smile. "I can't remember the last time we've actually had Christmas on Christmas day."

"I know," Bones agreed. "Not that it matters all that much."

"No. It doesn't. Let's go to the Christmas Eve Lovefeast."

"If you want," Bones said. "Winona called Sam."

"What'd he say?"

"He appreciates the invitation. But they are in Paris and are going to stay. They'll come after New Year's."

"Good," Jim said with a nod. "Do you know how many are sleeping over Christmas?"

"I have no idea. Pavel said something about going to Moscow. But Hikaru doesn't want to. Which means Pavel will stay here."

"Here as in _here_? Or here as in at Hikaru's?"

"No idea," Bones said with a shrug. "Did you call Tahla this morning?"

"Yeah. She's glad I agreed to the sabbatical. And she said I'd still be on the network."

"Good," Bones said with a nod. They chatted about their days, Jim skirting around the entire truth but still including those book related things he had discussed with Spock. Bones talked about his day at the hospital and how one of the new interns had hit on him.

"What'd you say?" Jim asked with a laugh.

"I said I was flattered but no thanks. I'm not officially engaged but very close to it."

"What'd she say to that?"

"She shrugged and smiled. M'Benga thinks she's hit on every doctor at the hospital already. I guess it was my turn."

"I told you you were hot. But you wouldn't believe me," Jim said.

"I only care about the opinion of Nyota when it comes to my relative hotness," Bones reminded him.

"Are you going to propose to her? I mean, there's not much point in using the sabbatical to make wedding plans if you aren't actually engaged," Jim pointed out.

"I'm not going to bend down on one knee, you dolt. We know we're going to get married. It's understood and agreed. You've watched too many Hallmark movies if you think that's the way people actually propose."

"You could have Hikaru skywrite it. Or Pavel could teach you to say in Russian. That'd be romantic."

"You are hopeless. And you aren't listening. She knows I want to marry her. She wants to Mrs. Dr. McCoy. That's all that matters."

"You have no romance, Bones. None."

McCoy shrugged at that, getting up to get Jim another Pepsi. "I can live with that."

"Once you do get married, where are you going to live? Are you going to move in with Tahla and Kheri?"

"Of course not. We'll probably buy a house. We haven't discussed that part yet."

"You could build one here. I'd give you 10 acres as a wedding gift," Jim said.

"I'd buy it. You couldn't just give it to us," Bones said.

"Why not? It's not like I'd miss it."

Bones shook his head at that. "You can't give me those acres, kid. That would be taking advantage of our friendship. And I won't do it."

"Okay. But you'll buy them? And build your house on them?"

"I can't decide that without talking to Nyota," he pointed out with a smile.

"She'll say yes. She likes it out here. We can build her a studio. It will be perfect."

"That does sound good," Bones agreed. "I'll talk to her Wednesday. We have a date."

"On a school night?" Jim asked with a laugh.

"I'm off Thursday. So I may or may not see you Friday morning."

"I see," Jim said. "I want to invite Spock over for dinner. It's not too soon, is it?"

"You've already had him over for the party. And you know Winona wants to meet him."

"Check him out," Jim agreed.

"She won't ever stop being your mom."

"I know. I'm just glad she finally started."

"I know," Bones agreed. "You want some decaf?"

"No. I don't think so. Will you watch the Muppet Christmas Carol with me?" Jim asked with wide, innocent blue eyes.

"Yeah," Bones agreed reluctantly. "But if you start crying when Tiny Tim dies, I'm not getting you a Kleenex."

"I most certainly do _not_ cry," Jim said in great indignation.

"What makes you think for one second you can lie to me?"

Jim shrugged, putting his dishes in the dishwasher before going to the living to put on the movie. Bones added several logs to the fire, curling up on the couch with his drink, Jim in the easy chair next to it. "You want a blanket?" Jim asked.

"I'm fine," Bones assured him, watching the movie until his eyelids felt too heavy to hold up any longer.

"Go to bed," Jim said, a light hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow," Bones said, going sleepily down the hallway to his bedroom.

Jim watched the end of the movie, not really paying any particular attention to it. He was too busy thinking about the time he'd spent with Spock. And how much he'd enjoyed it. And how much he was looking forward to the next time they were together. He hoped it would be soon. But they had parted with no promises, no talk of _future._ Jim didn't know quite how he felt about that. He'd never wanted assurances from anyone else he'd dated. But with Spock – it was different. It _felt_ different. Like there was a possibility of a _future_. And Jim was pretty sure he liked that idea.

~o0o~

"What are you doing up?" Bones asked Jim as he stumbled into the kitchen to find Jim at the table already, drinking coffee.

Jim shrugged, getting up to pour Bones a cup. "I wasn't sleeping so I got up."

"You okay?" Bones asked as he accepted the cup. He was watching Jim who was dressed in sweatpants, a sweatshirt and sneakers. Peeking out of one pocket was a pair of wool gloves. "Did you run?"

"I'm fine. I didn't run yet. I will after I eat."

"Sit down," Bones requested, waiting as he did it. "Tell me what's wrong."

"What makes you think something's wrong?" Jim asked, studying his coffee cup far too intently.

"It's 5:30. In the morning. You are going for a run before the sun is up. If I go to your bedroom, I suspect I'll discover you didn't even bother getting into bed last night. Now. Tell me what's wrong."

Jim shrugged, finally looking up at the all-knowing hazel eyes of his best friend. "He's going to figure it out. He's a Vulcan."

"Okay. And?"

"I'll have to quit. Or stop seeing him. He can't know. Do you have any idea what the Consortium will do when they find out he's figured it out?"

"They won't do anything, Jim. You are allowed a life. Denise lives a normal life. As normal as it can be, married to one of us. Sam wasn't ordered not to marry her. What makes you think they'll make you break up with Spock?"

"They could do worse. They could issue a kill order."

"They will not," Bones said. "You know that. If things become really serious, you tell him part of the truth. If he can't accept it, you break things off. He's smart enough to know silence keeps him safe. You said he accepted your scars. That's huge by itself. You need to call Chris and talk to him."

"What if he tells me to break it off with Spock?" Jim asked.

"You have it bad, don't you?" Bones asked, shaking his head.

"Yeah I do. He's… well. Let's just say I've never had better. Or felt better. And leave it at that."

"Please do," Bones agreed. "You have worked yourself into a lather for no reason, kid. You aren't going to be forced to break up with him. Or to kill him. They don't work that way."

"You're sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Unlike some people, I read the contract before I sign it. I read it every year when we renew. You might try reading it once."

Jim shrugged innocently at that. "You'd tell me if there was anything in it I should know about."

"Yeah. I would," Bones agreed reluctantly. "I don't know when I took you on to raise."

"I should still call Chris, though."

"You should. Now, what do you want for breakfast?" Bones asked.

"I'll make some oatmeal."

"Sit. I got it covered," Bones said, getting the pot out of the cabinet.

"I guess it's too early to call Chris."

"It is, especially since Winona didn't come home last night," Bones said, making Jim laugh.

"That's my mom."

"You don't need to sound quite so proud of the fact," Bones grumbled good-naturedly.

"Where do you think I got it?" Jim asked with his mega-watt smile. To which Bones was complete immune.

"She isn't responsible for your insufferable ego," Bones said.

"True. Since she didn't especially like me until recently."

"She's wised up," Bones said, sitting down as he waited for the water to boil.

"What time are you due in?"

"7:00. I hope to be home by 4. Will you be here?"

"As far as I know. I don't have any particular plans today. Is there anything I need to do for you?" Jim asked.

"No. You'll nap, right?"

"Yes," Jim sighed. "You know I won't have any choice. I'll run. Call Chris. Putter around. Nap. Did I tell you I told Spock I'll do Oprah on publication date?"

Bones laughed at that, shaking his head. "I know you're excited about that."

"Woo-hoo," Jim said with no enthusiasm at all.

"I know."

"Do you want to go? To Chicago in February?" Jim invited with a smile.

"Thank you, no. I hate snow. And cold. And Chicago."

"You hate anything that isn't Georgia. How you have lived with me all this time remains a mystery," Jim said, shaking his head.

"It's a mystery to me too," Bones agreed as he got up to put the oatmeal in the boiling water. Jim got up from the table to go to the foyer when they heard the front door opening.

"And where have you been, Missy?" Jim asked in mock anger. "You are grounded."

Winona laughed, kissing him lightly on the cheek before continuing into the kitchen. "Where I've been isn't your concern, love. Good morning, Len."

"Winona," Bones responded, pouting her a cup of coffee.

"I didn't expect you guys to be up already," Winona said sitting at the table.

"Obviously," Jim agreed, sitting back down to smile over at her. "How's Chris?"

"I am not answering that question, young man. And you'd do well to keep your inappropriate curiosity to yourself," she scolded warmly.

"Yes ma'am," Jim said, smiling over at her.

"Why are you up, love?" she asked Jim, studying him over her coffee cup.

He shrugged, not otherwise answering.

"Does this have anything to do with your new editor?" she guessed.

"Maybe. Maybe there are some things you don't need to tell your mom," Jim said innocently.

"Well. That seems fair," Winona had to agree. "Chris will be in his office in 45 minutes. You'll call and talk to him?"

"Yeah. After I go for a run," Jim agreed. "What are you up to today?"

"Nothing much. Tahla invited me over for lunch. She said you should come if you have time," she added.

"I do have time but you two need time to yourselves," Jim said. "Thanks though."

"If you're sure," Winona said, accepting a bowl of oatmeal from Leonard. "Thank you, dear."

"I want to have Spock over for dinner. Are there any nights you're free?" Jim asked her, accepting his bowl.

"I'm free most days, dear. I came to see my little boy."

"And your friends," Jim added. "What day is good for you?"

"It doesn't much matter," Bones said. "Friday night? I have a four hour shift on Saturday."

"Good," Jim said with a nod. "I'll call him. Friday okay with you?"

"It's fine. Are you inviting the gang?"

"I don't know. I'll ask Chris. Or you can. Hikaru and Pavel will probably be here. And you'll ask Nyota, right?"

"Of course," Bones said. "I don't think she has any plans."

"Good. I'll call Scotty. Vegetarian lasagna would be good, right?"

"Good choice," Bones agreed, scraping out the rest of his oatmeal. "If you will excuse me, I have to get in the shower."

"I'll take care of the dishes," Jim agreed as Bones left the table for his suite.

"What are you going to do when he marries Nyota?" Winona asked gently.

"I'm trying not to think about it," Jim admitted with a smile. "I offered him 10 acres. He said he'd probably buy them."

"Good," Winona said with a nod. "If I wanted 5, would you sell them to me?"

"Really?" Jim asked with a pleased smile. "You want to move here?"

"I'm ready to settle down. And California just doesn't feel like home. I sure don't have any desire to return to Iowa. So if you'll have me, I'd love to live close to my little boy."

"Of course I'll have you. I guess I thought you'd just move in with Chris."

She shook her head at that, her curls bouncing. "I don't want to marry him, dear. We work just fine the way we are. And he doesn't need that complication in his life."

"I get that," Jim agreed. "When do you want to start building your house?"

"Not until spring. I need to talk to Mizuki first. I'd like to open a Tsuyayaka Koromo here."

"She'll let you, won't she? But you won't run it, will you?" Jim asked.

"Of course I won't run it. I'll hire someone to take care of the day-to-day. Chris will find me someone suitable."

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "I'm going for a run. I'll be back in a little while."

"It's really cold out, dear. Put on a hat, please."

"Yes ma'am," he agreed, going to the coat closet for his toboggan cap. "Don't worry about the dishes."

She waved him off, continuing to tidy the kitchen as he slipped out the back door and went down to the beach. She was right. It was really cold out. The wind of the beach was brisk and cutting, blowing straight through his clothes. After stretching, he ran into the wind, knowing that returning with the wind to his back would be much easier. He tried not to think about anything except the waves lapping up on shore, the sound of his shoes on the sand, the burn of lungs and legs as he ran. His relationship with running was one of love/hate. An unfortunate necessity. He always felt better after he'd done it. But while he was doing it - he hated. Everything about it. That didn't mean he didn't do it. Just meant he hated it.

When he was in the midst of writing, running was often the time his ideas blossomed and grew. Running gave him the time and space to figure out what was going to happen next. What new barriers he could introduce. What the next adventure would be.

Sometimes the problem was that running gave him _too_ much time to think. When he wasn't writing, like now, he thought about the complications of living two lives. Not that he regretted it. He certainly had never intended to become a paid assassin. Like most of the major decisions of life, it had happened by accident. That skill at language again. And having his college education paid by the Consortium freed up his time to write. Not that Winona wouldn't have put him through college. But when they approached him and asked if he'd be interested in following his mother's footsteps, it felt natural.

When he had used his newly acquired skills to make his first kill, he felt pride at his accomplishment. He thought he should have felt a little guilty about taking another life but by killing the drug kingpin, he had saved thousands of other lives. A fair trade he knew.

Now he had quite possibly found the person he wanted to share the rest of his life with. Maybe it was too soon to even think such things but there was something about Spock that pulled at Jim's soul. As though they had been together in a former life. An alternate universe. That they were one person inhabiting two bodies. And if his feelings were _true_ and right, and he was right that Spock shared them, what would Spock say when he found out that Jim Kirk, writer, was also a feared assassin? Would he run? Would he try to talk Jim out of it? Would he understand? How much of his life was Jim willing to risk to have Spock in it?

He could only hope that talking to Chris would help. And Bones was right. Sam had married Denise when she wasn't any part of the Consortium. They hadn't objected. Maybe he and Spock would be allowed the same freedom. He certainly hoped so.

He ran up the small slope and into his back door, barely pausing long enough to tell his mom hi. He did slow down to accept the cup of coffee his mother held out to him. He made the shower hot, to thaw out from his run and relieve the tension in his muscles. After he'd cooled down, he'd have jelly knees. Taking a shower helped uncoil those muscles that bunched during his run.

After he was out and dressed, he wandered into his living, sitting on the couch next to Winona who was watching him with a smile.

"Good run?" she asked.

"You know," he said with a shrug. "I hate running."

"I know you do," she agreed.

They talked about what they had done since the last time they had been together, laughing and enjoying their own company. It hadn't always been so comfortable, but Jim had learned to understand why she had made the choices she had made. Some of the time she didn't have any choice. Some of the time she did what she did because it was best for him and for Sam. They were too young to understand, then. When Jim understood, there was a bridge built between them. Jim finally had a mother, one who was smart and insightful and had unending love for her two sons.

"Go and call Chris, dear. You'll feel better after you talk to him," Winona said, a warm hand on Jim's arm. Becoming closer to him mother had also brought him a clearer understanding of why he did many of the things he did, like his need to have physical contact with those for whom he felt affection. His personal space with his friends was practically nonexistent, and the same was true for Winona. Their belated closeness had also provided Winona the chance to tell Jim about the father he never knew – who George was, what he was like, how Jim looked almost exactly him, and seemed to channel much of George's personality.

He agreed with her advice and went into his office, not that he couldn't have the talk in front of Winona. But the phone in his office was safer, secure against prying ears.

"Hey," Jim said when Chris answered.

"Jim," Chris said, a smile in his voice.

"So I spent some time with Spock last night," Jim said, hoping Chris understood the meaning behind the words.

"I see," Chris said, assuring Jim that he did actually understand.

"And…well… at the risk of sounding like a first grader, I really like him," Jim said.

"I see," Chris repeated, this one encouraging as well as acknowledging.

"What happens if he's the one?"

"What happens to what?" Chris asked gently.

"Well. Will I have to leave the Consortium? He'll find out or figure out the truth. Tahla said I should take a sabbatical so he didn't figure it out. But what if I want a future with him?"

"Then we will rejoice with you," Chris said. "We'll buy you china and crystal."

"Really? I won't have to quit?"

"Sam didn't when he married Denise. John Young didn't when he married Iris. Pam Ivory didn't when she married Roman. They all understood and accepted that part of their lives. If Spock can accept it, there you go. If he can't, it will be up to you decide which is more important. The Consortium or Spock."

"Yeah," Jim said. "So the sabbatical is so I have time to figure it out?"

"Yes it is. It seems a little early on for you to be having these thoughts about Spock."

"I know it does," Jim had to agree. "But…well…do you believe in love at first thought?"

"It doesn't matter whether I do or not," Chris said. "If you believe you're in love, that's real to you."

"Are you patronizing me?" Jim asked, not really minding if he was.

"Maybe," Chris laughed.

"I can live with that," Jim responded. "Can you come to dinner Friday? I'm inviting Spock over."

"Of course. What can I bring?"

"Nothing. But thanks. Did you and Mom have fun last night?"

"What did she say when you asked her that?" Chris asked.

"That it's not any of my business," Jim admitted.

"There you go then," Chris said. "I need to go. You need anything else from me?"

"Not right now. Thanks."

"No charge. Call me if you have any more first grade issues you need to work through."

"You'll be the first one I call. Especially if I catch the cooties."

"Good," Chris laughed. "Say good-bye Jim."

"Good-bye Jim," Jim replied obediently before hanging up. He smiled as Winona when she appeared at his doorway. "You are right."

"Of course I am, dear. I'm your mom. I know things."

"You do," Jim said with a smile. "I'm going to call Spock. Then you want to go to town for lunch?"

"That would be lovely. But it's not even 9 o'clock," she laughed lightly.

"Oh. I guess that's what happens when you don't sleep, huh?"

"Call Spock. Then you can nap for a little while. Once you wake up we can go to town."

"Good plan," he agreed with a smile.

"Do you want some more coffee?"

"No thanks," he said, picking up his phone. "I'd like to speak to Mr. Spock," he said to the cool Vulcan voice that answered.

"Mr. Spock is in a meeting. Would you care to leave a message?" she asked.

"No. That's okay. I'll give him a call later."

"May I let him know you called, Mr.….?"

"Mr. Kirk," Jim supplied because she so clearly wanted him to.

"Please hold, Mr. Kirk," she said quickly, putting him on hold.

He barely stopped himself from laughing when Spock picked up the phone. "Jim."

"Hey," Jim responded. "I'm sorry to take you away from your meeting."

"It is of no consequence," Spock responded. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mostly," Jim said with a laugh. "You?"

"I rested quite well," Spock said.

"Good. I told you that my mom is in town for Christmas?"

"You did," Spock agreed.

"Well. I'd like to know if you can come over for dinner Friday. So you can meet Mom. If you're free."

"I am free. I would like to meet Mrs. Kirk," Spock said.

"Good. 6:00 o'clock?"

"Of course. What may I contribute?"

"Nothing, thanks. I'm going to invite a few friends. Chris, Scotty, Hikaru and Pavel. And Leonard is going to invite Nyota."

"It will be a festive affair," Spock said, making Jim laugh.

"I hope so. I'll let you get back to your meeting," Jim said.

"Of course," Spock said. "I will see you Friday."

"Good. Looking forward to it."

"As am I," Spock agreed, hanging up after their final good-byes.


	14. Serial 54989ZuluLimaHotelNovember

_I will not carry a gun... I'll carry your books, I'll carry a torch, I'll carry a tune, I'll carry on, carry over, carry forward, Cary Grant, cash and carry, carry me back to Old Virginia, I'll even hari-kari if you show me how, but I will not carry a gun! _~Hawkeye Pierce, M*A*S*H (9/24/74)

* * *

Dinner was an unqualified success. Spock was gracious and engaged and accepted easily by all present. They told stories about Jim and Bones, everyone contributing their favorite memories. They took the good-natured abuse in stride, Spock expressing his amusement in his prototypical Vulcan fashion.

He shared enough about himself that everyone felt like they had a chance to get to know him but he in no way monopolized the conversation. He was the perfect dinner guest, fitting in without taking over.

When the food was eaten, the wine drunk, the table cleared, they adjourned to the living room, to continue telling tales, some true, some partially true, some out-and-out lies. The more wine they consumed, the less truth there was to the stories. The Pepsi Jim drank gave him permission to call the lies lies and the tellers liars. No one minded - his umpiring brought fresh gales of laughter.

Hikaru and Pavel called dibs on the empty guest room, Scotty deciding to go home for fear he'd be stuck there for another indeterminate amount of time. Nyota left reluctantly. She had an early meeting on Saturday and needed to be home for it. Chris wanted to stay but didn't think it was in the best of taste to sleep with Winona in Jim's house. Jim pointedly didn't mind but Chris left after a chaste kiss on Winona's cheek.

"Can you spend the night?" Jim asked Spock softly as they put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher.

"I can," Spock said, his hand lingering on the back of Jim's before getting the next dish.

"And you will?" Jim asked with a smile.

"I will. If there is an unusual amount of noise from your bedroom, will Leonard notice?"

"Nope. I remodeled the house and added soundproofing. I didn't want me or Len to ever be embarrassed."

"Wise," Spock agreed.

"Will there be extra noise in my bedroom?" Jim whispered in Spock's elegant ear.

"I certainly hope so," Spock responded, making Jim laugh.

"Me too," Jim agreed.

When they were satisfied that the kitchen was again spotless, they adjourned to Jim's bedroom, extra noise not heard outside the confines of his bedroom.

The insistent ringing of his cellphone abruptly brought Jim out of the deep, comfortable sleep he had been enjoying. He rolled away from the warmth of Spock, regretting having to leave his personal heat source.

"Yeah," he said when his groping hand had finally found the source of the noise.

"I need you to wake up. Then I need you and Leonard to get to the airfield," Chris voice said, a tone of urgency penetrating Jim's brain.

"Right," Jim agreed, sitting up and looking over at Spock who was watching him in unhidden curiosity. "We'll be there in 20 minutes."

"Make it 10," Chris corrected, disconnecting.

"I… have to go," Jim said to Spock. He knew it was inadequate but there was nothing of substance he could add. Spock continued to stare at him, unblinking, uncomprehending.

"Where? It is 3:30 in the morning," Spock finally said in his even, slightly tight voice.

"It's complicated," Jim said, looking over at his door when Bones opened it, already fully dressed in black head to toe. Jim blinked at the bright light that spilled into his bedroom from the hallway.

"Hurry up," Bones said, frowning in at him.

"I… I'm… I'll be there in a minute," Jim said, turning from Bones to Spock who was still staring at him. Bones closed the door, leaving them once more in the dark, alone except for Spock's simmering anger. Jim reached over and snapped on the lamp, Spock blinking once, his eyes never wavering from his intent study of Jim's face.

"Explain," Spock requested. Ordered. Didn't matter. There was nothing Jim could say.

"I'm not able to explain, Spock. I have to go. You can stay the rest of the night. No one will bother you."

Spock shook his head, leaving the bed and putting on the clothes he had worn to the dinner. Every movement was compact, not a wasted motion. He did not look over as Jim pulled on his black jeans, black turtleneck and sturdy black boots.

"I'll call you when I have the chance," Jim said, standing by the door. Spock looked at him before minutely shaking his head.

"I do not know what it is you would say," Spock said.

"I don't know either. But I can't say anything right now. I have to go."

Spock remained completely impassive, waiting for Jim to open the door. Spock went directly to the front door, pausing only long enough to pull on his coat before leaving without a word or a backward glance.

"Well," Bones said. "That didn't go especially well."

"That's an understatement," Jim said, going into his office for his secure cell phone and his gun. "Here."

"No," Bones said in refusal when Jim extended a second gun to him. "I have the knives. I'm good."

Jim frowned but silently put the second gun in his waistband, the first in the holster down his back. "You are the most stubborn S.O.B. I've ever met."

"Thanks," Bones said, zipping up his black jacket.

"Did you call the hospital?" Jim asked.

"Geoffrey is going to cover my shift. If I can't be there Sunday, they'll work it out," Bones said.

"You make those arrangements?"

"Chris did. Or possibly Tahla. I'm not entirely sure," Bones said with a shrug. "Since Tahla's chair of the board, chances are very good I won't be fired."

"Thank goodness. I don't want to have to support you completely," Jim claimed before he went back to peer into the safe. "Do you know where we're going?"

"No. Bring them all. Chris will secure the passports we don't need," Bones said. Jim nodded, taking out all of their passports, sorting them to give Bones his.

"So much for our sabbatical, huh?" Jim said as they went to the garage to enter the black Mercedes.

"Must be serious for Chris to call us," Bones agreed. "I'm sorry about Spock."

Jim could only shrug. "Yeah. Well. I'll deal with it when we get back. There's nothing I can do about it right now."

"I know," Bones said as Jim pulled out of the garage and into his narrow street.

It was 12 minutes later that they arrived at the airfield, the gates sliding open when Bones input the code. Chris was standing outside the hanger, waiting.

"Grigory Illich-Svitych has the opportunity to be reinstated as Prime Minister of Tajikistan. The citizens are agitating for his return to power," Chris said, not rushing but speaking quickly to get all the information to them. "He specifically asked that the two of you take him from the safehouse back to Dushanbe. Then you'll stay until after he's inaugurated again. The Kremlin isn't thrilled with it. There may be an assassination attempt. You have to have your eyes open all the time."

"Shouldn't we at least take Pavel with us?" Bones asked as they entered the hanger.

"I said that to Tahla. She said two's plenty, considering the two he requested. Jim will do the heavy lifting. Leonard, you only have to keep them all alive. They are in safehouse Vaccariello. The codes will be sent over secure channel when you're ten minutes out. Get them to Dushanbe safely. Stay until he's reinstated. Jim, you may have to stay through the vetting of his security detail. If so, Len, Hikaru will come get you. If he doesn't need either of you to stay, you'll fly home together."

"Got it," Jim said with a nod.

"Anything else we need to know?" Leonard asked as they stood beside shuttle #315 Qui-Gon.

"That's everything," Chris said. "I expect you home safe and sound in a week. I'll call the hospital and Spock."

"Spock probably won't talk to you," Jim said. "He's no longer speaking to me."

"That's unfortunate," Chris said. "I'm just your lawyer. I don't know why you suddenly had to leave or when you'll be back."

"Good luck with that," Jim said, waiting as Chris input the correct code for the shuttlecraft door to gracefully lower.

"I'll talk to him," Chris said. "If it comes to it, I'll have Tahla call him."

"Not yet," Jim requested. "I want to try first. When we get back."

"Sure," Chris agreed automatically.

Leonard settled into the co-pilot's seat as Jim did the preflight checks. When they were ready, Chris left, the door closed and the shuttle left the hanger to disappear into the dark night.

~o0o~

"Kirk, James T. Serial number 54989-Zulu-Lima-Hotel-November-332. Requesting permission to land at Airfield Hencke." Generally these requests were transmitted electronically but those in charge of Airfield Hencke preferred verbal authorization. And it wasn't because they were in the middle of no place Arizona. That's just how they did things.

"Airfield Hencke confirms identity of pilot. Copilot, please provide identification."

"McCoy, Dr. Leonard H. Serial number 99784-Delta-Kilo-Bravo-Whiskey-879." There was a pause before Airfield Hencke responded.

"Received and confirmed. Permission granted. Proceed to hanger 53-Romeo."

"53-Romeo. Acknowledged," Jim said.

"Why don't you ever introduce yourself at Dr. Kirk?" Bones asked as Jim piloted the shuttle to the indicated hanger.

"Because I'm not _really_ one. I mean, a PhD isn't like an MD. If I didn't live with you, I might. But we only need one doctor in our house," Jim said.

"A PhD is as much a doctor as an MD. Just different," Bones said.

"Yeah. Well," Jim said, piloting the shuttle into the open roof of the hanger. "We arrived before we left," Jim laughed, pointing to the shuttle's chronometer that said it was 2:13 in Arizona.

"The wonder of shuttles. At least the Vulcans let us have that technology," Bones said as Jim landed flawlessly and with the smallest of thumps.

"Thankfully," Jim agreed. He entered the code to open the shuttle door before shutting down all of the systems. When the shuttle was secure, they left for the hanger, greeted by Patrice January. They suspected that wasn't her real name but they sure weren't going to ask. She was smart and all business, of indeterminate age – somewhere between 30 and dead.

"Kirk. McCoy," she said in her distinctive staccato voice.

"January," McCoy responded. Kirk held his tongue, always a little afraid she wanted to pull it out with her bare hands. And he didn't doubt for a second that she could.

"The Prime Minister and his wife are still in the safehouse. We were not willing to move them until you arrived. We have transportation. It will take you 19 minutes to arrive. They know you are coming."

"Right," McCoy acknowledged. "Any circumstances we need to be briefed on?"

"None. They are ready to leave. When you have them, you'll return here and take them to Dushanbe." They were walking out of the hanger as January explained, leading them over to the black Hummer.

"We won't be too conspicuous in this," Bones said with a shake of his head.

"It's reinforced, McCoy. Bulletproof windows. Not that you need them here. Still."

"Yeah," Bones agreed, waiting as Jim accepted the keys. "You be here when we get back?"

"No need. You have your orders. Good luck." With that, she disappeared into the dark surrounding the hanger.

"Charming as ever," Jim whispered when they were inside the Hummer.

"She is the only person I've ever known that scares you. Did she threaten to emasculate you at some point?"

"No. She is utterly immune to my charm," Jim joked, starting up the car.

"We all are. You are not nearly as irresistible as you believe."

"I am so. I have references to prove it," Jim said as he pulled up to the gate of the airfield. Leonard input the correct code, the gate sliding open.

"You really should be committed somewhere. Preferably soundproof. Safe from the rest of the world."

"You'd have to come see me. You couldn't live without me," Jim reminded him.

"I'm willing to give it a try. Then I could have a sabbatical. One that lasts longer than six freaking days."

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "And maybe I could have a meaningful relationship with someone other than my hand."

"Sucks to be you," McCoy said with an utter lack of sympathy.

"Glad you finally realize it," Jim laughed, carefully driving through the Arizona night.

~o0o~

As Spock drove home from Jim's house, he could not stop replaying the events which precipitated his abrupt departure. Where could Jim and Leonard be going in the middle of the night? That they could not tell him? He could not stop from thinking that the 3:30 call was inexorably intertwined with the multiple scars on Jim's body. No writer should have so much evidence of a life not lived behind a typewriter. Well, computer. There were other facts about Jim's life that he was learning which did not add up. Why was he friends with such an eclectic mix of people? Montgomery Scott was clearly not just a handy-man. He could more than hold his own in the conversation they had had about warp drives and shuttle mechanics.

Then there was Hikaru Sulu. Certainly Spock believed that he was Jim's assistant. But surely he was also the same Hikaru Sulu who was a champion swordsman. Spock knew for a fact that he had been a fraction of a point away from being included on the Olympic fencing team.

And Pavel Chekov. Where did he fit into this puzzle? He was a certified genius, one semester away from graduating with honors from Northern Polytechnical University at the age of 19. Spock only knew this because his father sat on the Board of Trustees and Chekov had been the topic of several conversations.

Also puzzling was Jim's friendship with Tahla Uhura. There was something more to it. Tahla and Kheri Uhura were a true power couple. Between them, they controlled over half the city. The half that Sarek did not currently control. Spock had never met Tahla before and had not expected to find her so charming and down-to-earth. The rivalry between the Uhuras and the Shi'Kahr Clan was understated and rarely played out in public. They were unfailingly civil. And the Shi'Kahr Clan had barely succeeded in purchasing House Net'no'kwa, defeating the Uhuras plans to acquire it. Spock and Tahla had not discussed any sort of business at the party for Madame Kel'pol, silently acknowledging it was neither the time nor the place.

Why was Jim so close to Tahla? What was their real connection? It wasn't because Leonard was dating Nyota. That seemed to be an outcome of Jim's relationship with Tahla. Jim was at the opening at which Leonard had intervened when Jim went into anaphylactic shock.

Spock pulled into his private parking space, securing the Jaguar before entering the penthouse. He went directly to the office that was right off of his bedroom, sitting behind his computer. After checking his private messages, he accessed the Shi'Kahr Clan database. It was the largest privately held storehouse of information anywhere, one rivaled only by those maintained in Washington DC. One that only a handful of people could access, very few of whom were not members of the Clan.

The window for his instant messaging opened, his mother's icon smiling statically at him. _What are you doing up, love?_

_Researching. Why are you awake? _Spock responded, an inner smile at his mother's electronic presence.

_No particular reason. Sarek is in California._

_I did not know. You could have come to stay with me,_ he reminded her.

_I know, dear. I'm fine. Just lonely. He'll be home later today. Are you well?_

_I am quite well, Mother. What do you know of the Uhuras?_

_Nothing more than you do,_ she said. Spock could tell there was a thoughtful pause on her end. How he knew was unclear but he was certain she was considering his question. _I believe Sarek has a file in the database._

_Is it confidential?_

_I don't think so. I'm sure if you access it, he will be fine with it. Why the sudden curiosity, dear?_

_You know that I have been working with James Kirk._

_Yes, _she agreed. _I heard he's quite charming._

_That has been my experience, _he had to agree. Because he would never lie to his mother. _There is more to him than meets the eye._

_How so?_

_I went to the party he hosted for Madame Kel'pol. Tahla Uhura was there. What would be their connection?_

_I don't know,_ she said. Again, he waited, certain she had more to add. _Check Sarek's file, dear. It may answer your questions._

_I will. May I come over for lunch?_

_Of course. You don't need my permission to come for a visit, _she responded, including one of those annoying smiling blobs.

_Thank you. I will see you at noon._

_I'm looking forward to it, dear. Good night._

_Sleep well, Mother. _

He closed down his instant messaging program, doing a database search on Tahla and Kheri Uhura. The first information he found was that which was publically available. On the file was an icon which indicated there was additional, password protected information. He followed the link, his password immediately accepted and allowing him access to the confidential information. He knew his access was logged and if Sarek had any concerns about him seeing it, his father would request an explanation.

The second file on the Uhuras was hardly more helpful. It contained very little information that he did not already have. He stifled the momentary impatience that he felt surging, rereading the information for a second time. As he reviewed it, a casual reference to something called _consortium_ caught his eye. He had never heard of it and searched the data warehouse for further insight. It turned out to be a futile search, only three references found. Two of those concerned a collection of investors who were considering purchasing one of the oil reserves unexpectedly available due to tribal unrest. The third reference was speculation that the Consortium may have been responsible for the disappearance of Sheik Siraj Khalil-Gheisari. No further information was available.

Spock nearly frowned at the computer, wondering how it could be so unhelpful. Where else could he find the information he was seeking? His father, perhaps. But it was very late even in California. He would have to wait until morning to speak with him.

Dissatisfied with the results so far, Spock typed _James T. Kirk_ into the search box of confidential information. He discovered very little of interest except for the one sentence, buried deep in Kirk's profile, that said _Speculation has swirled for several years that he serves at the pleasure of Kheri Uhura._ What could that mean? Serve as what?

A search on Winona Kirk revealed nothing except a reference to her deceased husband George Samuel Kirk. That reference indicated that George Kirk had died under mysterious circumstances in Arizona. No other details were available concerning Jim Kirk's father. The other George Samuel Kirk listed was Jim's brother, a fashion designer, married to Aurelan, traveled extensively, no children.

After his fruitless search, Spock turned off his computer and retreated into the sanctum of his bedroom where he settled down to meditate. Calm did not come as quickly as it normally did, a state he knew could be contributed directly to one James T. Kirk.


	15. Vahdat Palace

_The truth is more important than the facts._ ~Frank Lloyd Wright

* * *

Kirk and McCoy arrived at the safehouse, fully aware that they were being observed. As the Hummer was registered to the Consortium, they knew they were safe pulling into the driveway and on into the garage that magically opened at their approach.

"McCoy. Kirk," Willie _no-relation-to-the-singer _Nelson said as they left the Hummer.

"Nelson," McCoy responded with a nod. Nelson was the type of person you would expect to be a bodyguard. Nondescript in every way. Brown hair, kept short. Brown eyes. Fair complexion. No memorable freckles, birthmarks, scars. Medium height. Medium build. His most memorable characteristic was his name for which he never had forgiven his parents. "You coming to Dushanbe?"

"Up to you. I will if you want. I'm here otherwise," he said, eyeing Jim and returning his attention to McCoy.

"Jim?" Bones asked.

"Sure," Jim confirmed. "Make me more comfortable if you come."

"That's fine then. January said it was your call. When I don't check in from here, she'll know."

"Right," Jim agreed. "Prime Minister ready?"

"He is. His wife is…a handful."

"Very lively," McCoy agreed.

"To say the least," Nelson said. He turned and entered the house, Gaila greeting the newcomers with her usual enthusiasm.

"Jimmy. Len. I knew we'd see each other again soon. I said that didn't I Grigory?"

"She did. Good of you to come," Grigory said, shaking their hands in turn, Gaila kissing them on the cheek.

"Our pleasure, Minister. Are you ready?" Jim asked.

"Ve are. Thank you," he said to Nelson when he reappeared with two small totes.

"How's your arm, Jimmy? Is it all healed up? Do you have a scar? Can I see it?"

"Much better. Yes it is. Yes I do. No you can't," Jim said with a laugh.

She shrugged, cheerfully following them out and into the garage. "Are you coming Willie?"

"I am," Nelson agreed, climbing into the Hummer. Bones also climbed into the back seat, leaving the more comfortable front seat for the Prime Minister. Not that the back seat wasn't plenty large enough for the three of them.

"How long vill it take to be arriving in Dushanbe?" the Minister asked Jim as he pulled out of the garage.

"It's 20 minutes to the airfield. Then it will take us 76 minutes to arrive at the airfield closest to Dushanbe. We'll have to drive the last 45 miles. There will be car at the airfield for us to use," Jim explained.

"Da," Illich-Svitych said with a nod.

"I was told I may have to remain for the vetting of your security, Minister. Do you need me to stay?"

"Da," he said. "I have been gone for longer than one year. My supporters they remain loyal. I cannot know who may have infiltrated."

"That's fine," Jim said, sort-of listening to Gaila's running commentary. She was talking to Bones, telling him every detail of their lives while they had been in exile and how nice it will be back home where they belong and Grigory was the best Prime Minister ever and why he was deposed was still a mystery and just so completely totally wrong, wasn't it? She barely paused to breathe until they reached the airfield, driving the Hummer directly into the hanger.

"Are you flying us, Jimmy? Willie said he can too. Can you, Leonard? Are you a pilot and a doctor?"

"I am flying us," Jim agreed.

"I am a pilot," Leonard confirmed. "And a doctor."

"Of course you are. You are so smart. Wow. You know so many things. Doesn't he, Grigory? Isn't he so smart?"

"He is," Illich-Svitych agreed with an indulgent smile. That he was accustom to and accepting of her enthusiasm about… everything was both obvious and endearing.

They entered the shuttle, settling into the seats, Jim in the pilot position, Willie taking the co-pilot duties. "Everyone buckled in and ready?" Jim asked, turning to check with the passengers. Assured that they were all prepared, the shuttle left the hanger for the journey to Tajikistan.

~o0o~

"This is Spock," he reluctantly acknowledged when his assistant informed him that Mr. Pike was on the line for him.

"Mr. Spock," Chris said. "Thank you for taking my call."

"What is it you require, Mr. Pike?"

That he was abrupt was not a surprise to Chris and he had to stifle his own rebounding impatience before answering. "Mr. Kirk requested I call."

"Indeed," Spock said, his voice cool, impassive.

"Yes. He regrets the manner in which he left."

"He regrets," Spock repeated. "He told you that we were together when he left?"

"He said that he was in your company. And that he had to leave unexpectedly. There were no details other than those."

"I see," Spock said, knowing the other man was lying. But what good would come from calling him on his prevarication? It occurred to Spock that his research had not included Christopher Pike, an omission he would rectify as soon as he terminated this phone call. "He could not call and explain for himself?"

"He is unavailable and will remain so for several days."

"Unavailable," Spock repeated. "What precisely does that mean, Mr. Pike?"

"That I was asked to call and express his regrets. There is nothing further I can add."

"Nothing further you _can _add?" Spock responded, evenly and with barely perceptible impatience.

"Nothing," Pike said. He knew the game Spock was playing. Chris was also a pro at verbal dueling. He could teach master classes on the finer points of it.

"I see. Then you and I have _nothing_ further to discuss."

"Very well," Pike said. "Good-bye, Mr. Spock."

"Good-bye, Mr. Pike." Spock hung up the phone, focusing on his computer. A search on Christopher Pike returned little information that would provide additional insight. The only hint of anything unusual was the sentence buried in the profile: _Pike's inexplicable relationship with Kheri Uhura remains impenetrable and_ _equivocally parental in nature._

The Uhuras. They were the key to this mystery. Yet his perusals into the data storehouse had done nothing to reveal the true nature of their influence over Jim Kirk and those who congregated around him.

Spock looked at his cellphone when it rang for attention, not entirely surprised that it was his father on the other end. Not surprised despite the fact that it was not yet 5 o'clock in California. "Father," Spock said.

"Spock," Sarek responded. "What is this sudden interest you have in the Uhuras? You have never shown any interest in the rivals of the Clan previously."

Spock paused before answering. He had been expecting this phone call and now that it had come, he still did not know how to respond. The truth was always the safest course to follow but his father would no doubt disapprove of his nascent relationship, a relationship that had ceased in its infancy. "Jim Kirk has an unexplained connection to the Uhuras."

There was a long pause on the other end before his father finally broke the silence. "Jim Kirk."

"Yes," Spock confirmed reluctantly. "He and I met to discuss the revisions to his novel. It turned into… more."

"More," Sarek repeated, clearly displeased by this news. As displeased as he ever allowed himself to sound - which was to say that only his family would know he was experiencing any negative reactions at all.

"Yes." He did not think a response was required but the silence was hanging too heavily.

"And you believe him connected to the Uhuras."

"He had a party for Marjorie Kel'pol to which he invited me. Tahla Uhura was in attendance."

"She was," Sarek said. Spock was uncertain if that was a question or a confirmation of information Sarek already possessed.

"I was in Kirk's company last night. He left abruptly with no explanation. He could not say where he was going nor when he would return." Spock sincerely hoped Sarek was not about to ask any questions about the nature of the _company_ he was keeping with Kirk.

"And what concern is this to you?" Sarek asked.

"His departure was mysterious and shrouded in uncertainty."

"Uncertainty? In what way?" Sarek asked.

"I am uncertain where he went, when he will return, what he is doing while he is away. Mr. Pike called and was recalcitrant when I requested edification."

"Kirk's absence is not any of your concern," Sarek said, an implied question in the statement.

"It would not be except he left 4 point 13 hours following the completion of our copulation," Spock admitted.

"It is like that," Sarek said with an undertone of resignation.

"It is," Spock confirmed. So much for his father not knowing the real nature of his relationship with Kirk. "It was. His precipitous departure has caused me to reconsider any possible affinity outside of the professional."

"When I have returned home, we will discuss this matter at greater length," Sarek informed him.

"There is nothing which needs to be discussed, Father. My only contact with Mr. Kirk will be necessitated by my work."

"We will discuss this when I have returned home," Sarek said as though he had not just said it. And as though Spock had not tried to protest.

"Very well," Spock had to agree. Because he had _no _choice in the matter.

"You will come to our house tomorrow for lunch. Inform your mother."

"Yes sir," Spock agreed, not bothering to tell Sarek he was having lunch with Amanda today. Sarek might tell him to cancel that lunch and he was looking forward to time with his mother, just the two of them. "I will see you tomorrow at noon."

"Yes," Sarek said, disconnecting.

~o0o~

Precisely 71 minutes after they left Arizona, Shuttle Qui-Jon touched down on Tajikistan soil. There was no one in the hanger to greet them. There was a battered station wagon waiting, the keys in the ignition.

"Oh Lord," McCoy said, shaking his head. He watched as Nelson went over to the car and popped the hood.

"Look, Len. Brand new engine," Nelson said, waving Leonard over.

"That helps," Bones agreed. "I have no skill with cars. You?"

"Some. Enough," Nelson said. He opened the tailgate, helping Jim put the totes in the back. "You want me to drive?"

"You awake?" Jim asked.

"More than you, I suspect. I'm good."

"I can drive," the Minister offered good-naturedly.

"It's fine, Minister," Willie said with a smile. "I have the directions. And I had more sleep than Jim."

"Da. Very vell then," the Minister agreed, holding Gaila up. "Not so much longer, we vill be sleeping in our own bed."

"Good thing, Grigory. Are we going straight to the Vahdat Palace? Do they know you're on your way? Will there be resistance to your return?" Gaila asked all in one breath.

"They know ve are coming, _dorogaya. _I am told the capital is secure and the palace is avaiting our arrival."

"Good," Gaila said with a nod.

"Are we ready then?" Jim asked, opening the doors for them to enter.

"Ve are ready," Grigory confirmed, sliding into the backseat with Gaila and Jim. Leonard got into the front seat with Nelson who had put down the hood.

"It's 3:30 in the afternoon here, right?" Leonard asked Nelson.

"Around that," Nelson agreed, waiting as the hanger doors slid apart enough to let them drive out into the snow shrouded landscape. More snow was falling, floating down in a most non-threatening way. "We'll get to the Palace in time for dinner."

"Good. I could use something to eat," Leonard agreed, looking into the backseat and not surprised that Jim was already sound asleep, propped up on the cold window. Gaila was curled up into the Minister who had his arms wrapped protectively around her.

There was very little else said as they drove through the countryside, an occasional farmhouse visible from the road, the fields fallow and snow covered.

"What's this?" Nelson said as he slowed the car behind a long line of other vehicles. "Minister?"

Grigory leaned forward to look between the two seats, straining to see past the other cars. "A checkpoint."

"Why?" Leonard asked, looking back at Illich-Svitych.

"I do not know. Villie, you do not speak Russian, da?" the Minister asked.

"No. Jim does."

"Da," the Minister agreed. "You must trade the places."

Nelson nodded, putting the car into park and quickly switching places with Jim, squirming over the seat to settle in the back. Jim took his place in front, careful not to kick any of them as he slid over the seat. "Is it going to be a problem if they recognize you?"

"I do not know," Grigory said. "Give me your hats."

Jim and Leonard automatically handed him their toboggans. Grigory pulled one down over his ears and as far down his forehead as he could. He helped Gaila stuff all of her hair into the other, accepting Jim's jacket for Gaila. She pulled it on over her red wool jacket, zipping it as high as it would go. She was already wearing gloves so pulling her scarf higher hid nearly all of her green skin.

"Do you have any vodka?" Jim asked.

"Da," Grigory agreed, reaching behind the seat for his tote, extracting a medium sized bottle. He splashed it on his clothes, making sure there was quite a bit on Gaila. Nelson also put a liberal amount on his clothes, unbuttoning and rebuttoning his coat, the buttons no longer in alignment.

McCoy reluctantly accepted the vodka, taking a small mouthful before intentionally spilling it out on himself. He gave one shiver before sprinkling some on Jim's clothes. Now that the car smelled of a distillery, the guards would hopefully wave them through, letting the happy drunks go on their way.

The line of cars, trucks, buses slowly snaked their way to the checkpoint, the guard leaning into the open driver's window when they arrived at the front.

"Papers," the guard demanded in Russian. Jim handed them over, all five fake passports authentic as far as could be discerned. "What is your destination?"

"We are going to the parade in Dushanbe," Jim responded in perfect Russian.

"That was yesterday," the guard informed him.

"Oh. Petre, the parade was yesterday," Jim said, slurring his speech just enough as he looked over at Leonard.

"I said it was yesterday, you fool," Len responded in not so great Russian.

"Mother will be so mad," Jim said, shaking his head.

The guard looked at Jim then Len before glancing into the backseat. "Who are they?"

"Cousins. Going to Mother's for dinner. After the parade," Jim laughed with an edge of hysteria.

The guard studied him intently, finally opening his door. "Out."

Jim stumbled out, allowing the guard to turn him to face the car, his hands on top of it. The guard was very thorough in his search of Jim's body, feeling places no one would hide a gun. He was either having his own little party or wanted to further humiliate Jim who was already in trouble with his mother for missing the parade.

The guard finally took a reluctant step back, waving Jim back into the car. After returning their passports, he sent them through the gates, frowning until they could no longer see him in the rear-view mirror.

"Well," Jim said, shifting uncomfortably in the seat. "I think I'm engaged."

"Congratulations," Len said, shaking his head. "I've done physicals that were less intimate."

"He has an unfortunate sense of humor," Jim said.

"His is an empty life," Gaila said sadly from the backseat. "Thank you for protecting us."

"You're welcome. Hopefully I won't need to have intimate relations with any more guards."

"They can be thorough," Grigory admitted reluctantly.

"When you're in charge again, you can change that, can't you, _dorogoy_?" Gaila said with a bright smile just for Grigory.

"I vill," he promised her, kissing her lightly on the lips.

It wasn't long until they entered the city proper, the roads congested, making their trip slower than they would have liked. When they finally reached the Palace, Jim stopped at the gates that were discreetly hidden behind the building. The guards surrounded the car, unfriendly expressions on all of their faces, right up until the Prime Minister stepped out to greet them. His presence was met with cheers, congratulations, inquiries about Gaila, more cheers erupting when she emerged, her red curls tumbling out of the hat as she pulled it off.

Grigory introduced Jim, Leonard, and Willie, the guards pleased to make their acquaintances. The Prime Minister was circumspect about exactly who they were and the guards did not question him.

Once the guards had celebrated his return to their satisfaction, they all got back in the car so that Grigory could drive up to the entry of the Palace. There were a dozen people on the drive to greet them, dignitaries, members of the house staff, guards who looked a little more relaxed when he left the car. The celebration from the gate was repeated at the door until they were escorted inside.

They agreed that the first thing they really wanted was something to eat, not sure how many hours it had been since the last time. After that they would get some sleep. Jim requested that he be temporarily excused, needing to call Pike with the update.

He was escorted into a small room close by, the others sitting at a casual table tucked in the corner of the huge commercial grade kitchen.

"Hey," he said when Pike had answered.

"Everybody okay?" Pike asked automatically. He knew the answer because Jim wasn't talking too rapidly to understand.

"We're fine. Willie Nelson came with us. We're in the Palace already. And I'm engaged to a random checkpoint guard."

"Oh dear," Pike laughed. "They can be…thorough."

"To say the least," Jim agreed. "Did you tell mom where I am?"

"I did. She's okay. You can call her later today."

"We're 10 hours ahead, right?"

"Yes you are. Are you staying until he recruits his guards?"

"He asked me to," Jim agreed. "The ones still at the Palace couldn't have been more pleased to have him back. So it may not take very long."

"Good. The people agitated for his return. That helps," Pike said.

"Yeah," Jim said. "We're going to get something to eat and then grab some sleep."

"Right. Call me if you need me," Pike reminded him.

"You know I will." Jim disconnected without asking about Spock. He could imagine what their conversation had been like and didn't need the confirmation. Nothing he could do until he got back home at any rate.

~o0o~

"Hello, dear," Amanda said when Spock entered the house. The door had opened as he had approached it, the silent, ever vigilant J'Zarh greeting him with a nod, accepting his coat.

"Mother," Spock said, allowing her to hold both of his hands. She was the only being that he would ever permit such familiarity and she shielded against his tumultuous thoughts.

"I know Sarek called you," she said, hiding as much of her sympathy as she could. That her husband was a man of fierce determination was acknowledged by all who knew him, most especially his family.

"He expressed reservations about my association with Jim Kirk," Spock said, sitting next to her in her comfortable study, much more Human than any other room in the house.

"He said as much to me," she agreed with a sad smile. "He also said that you didn't expect to see him again."

Spock sighed, an expression of his emotions he would allow only her to witness. "I hardly think that he would make a suitable mate." That was not what he wanted to say but the rest was too complicated, too many reactions to be able to fully articulate them even to his mother.

"The Vulcans said the same of me, dear. You are the only one who can decide if your future is entwined with his."

Spock shook his head once, looking down at his hands folded in his lap. "He is unlike anyone I have met," he found himself admitting although he did not want to.

"I've heard that," she agreed.

"Have you ever met him?" Spock asked to his hands.

"I have not. I have met his mother. I know - it's surprising. But our paths have crossed twice. She is complicated and very smart."

"Complicated?" Spock asked, thinking of the dinner and the conversation he had engaged with her. She seemed to be exactly what she appeared – the buyer for an exclusive line of boutiques. He would have never thought of her as more complex than that.

"Yes, dear. She traveled extensively and speaks at least a dozen languages."

"As does her son," Spock said with a nod. "What is their connection to the Uhuras?"

"That I do not know," Amanda said in regret. "Sarek… well. He said he would discuss it with you when you come for lunch tomorrow."

"I did not tell him I was coming today," Spock confessed, feeling some unwelcome guilt over the omission.

"I'm your mother, love. You don't need his permission to visit with me," she reminded him. "I haven't seen you in over 2 weeks."

"11 days," Spock corrected, receiving his mother's laugh as his reward.

"All right," she responded. "Come eat. Then I need to do some shopping. Can I persuade you to come with me?"

"If I must," Spock said, secretly enjoying her laugh at his response. He knew she knew he had no intention of saying no to her and his supposed reluctance was for her amusement. "When is Father returning?"

"Not until dinner time, dear. We have plenty of time. I will drive myself so you'll be able to go straight home," she assured him as the sat at the dining room table.

"I regret that you must mediate between us," Spock said.

"It's my job," she said with a warm, motherly smile. "It is in no way a burden. You mustn't consider it further."

"Very well," he agreed, asking her about her activities since the last time they had shared time, enjoying her stories, her presence, her love that she generously gave to him.


	16. The Tersaya

_Parenthood is the passing of a baton, followed by a lifelong disagreement as to who dropped it._ ~Robert Brault

* * *

Jim, Leonard, and Willie were invited to take up temporary residence in the guest suites of the Palace but graciously declined, explaining that if they were put up with the Palace workers, less attention would be brought to them. The Minister wanted to protest but understood their reasoning. They were escorted by one of the Palace workers to the lower levels, given a room of their own with 2 bunk beds.

"Thank you," Jim said in Russian, the worker leaving after a nod. "Well."

"Yeah," Leonard said, looking at the bunk beds. "I'll take the top."

"All right," Jim agreed. "Willie?"

"Doesn't much matter. I'll sleep on the bottom over here," he said, sitting on the lower bunk across from Jim and Leonard. "I would have expected you to be in the upper, Jim."

"I would except that I sometimes sleep walk," Jim admitted, peeling off the top layer of clothes. When he was down to tee shirt and shorts, he lay on the bottom bunk, arranging the down comforter.

"Which means he'd step on my face," Bones added, also striping down to the essentials before climbing into the upper bunk.

"No good," Willie agreed. "You'll wake me if I sleep too long?"

"Of course," Bones agreed.

It wasn't long until all three of them were sound asleep, warm and comfortable in their borrowed beds.

~o0o~

"Spock," Sarek said when Spock entered the house, giving his heavy coat to J'Zarh. "Come. We will talk."

Spock automatically followed his father into his study, a serious room that inhibited any lightness from the occupants. Spock briefly wondered where Amanda was but if Sarek did not volunteer the information, Spock would have to do without it. He made sure his face remained utterly impassive as Sarek closed the heavy wooden door, going over to sit in his black leather armchair. Spock sat in the smaller upholstered chair, using all of his reserve of calm not to fidget under Sarek's intense scrutiny.

"Your mother tells me that you are interested in Jim Kirk on a personal level."

"I was," Spock responded, careful to make sure it did not sound as though he was contradicting, or worse, correcting his father.

Sarek considered those two words briefly, one eyebrow lifting in inquiry. "What occurred that altered your incipient interest?"

"Factors that do not add up," Spock said.

"Factors," Sarek repeated. He wanted additional information. That much was clear. Spock had no desire to tell him anything more but…no one denied Sarek, least of all his son.

"He has a number of prominent scars on his body. Scars which indicate severe injuries including bullet wounds. When I asked about them, he said he could not discuss them. On Friday night he left after receiving a phone call at 3:30 in the morning. He could not give me any details concerning the emergency which caused him and Dr. McCoy to depart suddenly."

"Dr. McCoy left as well," Sarek said. Not asked. As it was not a question, Spock did not answer. "From your research, I understand that you believe this to be related to the Uhuras."

"They appear entwined in it," Spock agreed.

"Based on what?"

"Observation. Connections between Kirk, McCoy, Pike, and Tahla Uhura."

Sarek continued to study his son who did an admirable job of remaining completely impassive under the scrutiny. "Tahla Uhura is the _feihan _of the Consortium in North America."

Leader of the North American…_what_? "The Consortium?" Spock asked.

Sarek looked a little discomfited by the question. Was that a brief flicker of guilt across Sarek's face? "Perhaps I have erred in keeping you removed from the inner workings of the Clan."

"In what way?" Spock asked, surprised that his father would ever admit to making a mistake. Especially where he was concerned.

"For more years than I have been alive, the Clan watched…monitored the Consortium. On occasion, we had no choice but to intervene. More often, we made certain they did not step out of the bounds of decorum."

Spock barely suppressed a sigh. His father was talking in riddles. And it was making Spock's head hurt. Hurt as much as his heart did. "I do not understand."

"The Consortium was established by the _ork'ik'a_ not many years after first contact. Their edict was to observe the interactions between Humans and Vulcans. If there had been a conflict which could have devolved into war, they were to intervene.

"That original mandate is no longer in effect. 53.65 years ago, the Consortium broke away from the Vulcan High Council. Those in authority within the Consortium no longer wished to be dictated to by the Vulcans. The Vulcans had few regrets in agreeing. They had corrupted their original purpose. They already had strayed so far by the time they broke away that they allowed only Human members. It was then that the High Council appointed the Clan as official observers." Sarek paused, studying his son who remained impassive, silent, intently listening. "The Consortium is a very powerful and efficacious organization which operates beyond the reach of any law enforcement agency."

"Operates what?" Spock asked. He felt sure he was not going to like the answer.

"Among other services they provide, they employ assassins. Jim Kirk is the top of their echelon."

Spock felt the blood drain from his face. Of all the things he would have guessed that his father was going to tell him, this was would have been the last. "An assassin," Spock whispered.

"Yes," Sarek confirmed. "He is also as he appears. He is a novelist and a linguist. It is his skill at languages that prompted the Consortium to recruit him. That his mother was a member was a secondary reason."

"Winona?" Spock asked breathlessly.

"She filled many roles. Assassin was a minor aspect."

"Jim Kirk…kills people."

"That is the definition of assassin," Sarek said.

"Jim cannot be an assassin," Spock said. But even as he tried to deny his father's words, he knew they were true. It all added up – the mysterious disappearances, the scars, the 3:30 a.m. phone call, all the people in his house. "Dr. McCoy?"

"He is a member. He prefers to avoid taking a life when it is possible. He will kill if he is required to do so."

"Where is Jim now? Is he preparing to take another life?" Spock asked.

"I do not know where Jim Kirk is," Sarek said, shaking his head once. "We do not have access to their every action. The Clan's influence has diminished steadily over the past 11.9 years."

"Why is that?" Spock asked, using the time it took Sarek to answer to gather his thoughts.

"When Tahla Uhura became the _feihan _she demanded that we no longer intrude in the affairs of the Consortium."

"She demanded?" Spock repeated, knowing there was more to it than Sarek was admitting.

"Threatened," Sarek reluctantly admitted. "In the time since, the Clan has had virtually no official contact with the Consortium."

"Do you suppose Kirk knows this history?"

"It is doubtful. Tahla and I have never made the rupture public. The Clan was very circumspect in monitoring the Consortium. When we were no longer actively doing so, few would have noticed any alteration."

"Tahla knows that Kirk and I were beginning to form a relationship of a personal nature," Spock said, an implied question.

"She would not object. She is aware that you are in no way involved in the negligible monitoring which still occurs. I am quite certain that if it were up to her, she would have chosen that he become involved with someone not of the our Clan. However, as it is, she will not interfere."

"You seem certain," Spock said, a growing suspicion from Sarek's tone.

"We spoke. Early this morning," Sarek acknowledged.

"Did you discuss Kirk?"

"Only in connection with you and Kirk," Sarek said. "She blesses your relationship, should it evolve into more."

"And if she did not?"

"He would break it off. If she demanded it. Otherwise he would have to leave the Consortium."

"I do not know that I can be intimately involved with someone who takes a life on the order of another," Spock said, almost repulsed by the very idea of it.

"The Consortium does not intentionally take innocent lives," Sarek said reluctantly. "You know of the death of Xiawoun of Hong Kong."

"Yes. It was in all the papers. On all the newscasts."

"It was the work of the Consortium. They saved many lives by eliminating him."

"Yes," Spock said. "Jim disappeared the day after Xiawoun died."

"He did not pull the trigger. There was a problem with the one who did. Kirk was responsible for the rescue."

"Indeed," Spock said, considering all that his father had said. It definitely explained some of the things about Jim he could not sort out. "Do you talk with Tahla often?"

"There is no consistency. We talk weekly, monthly, less often depending on the need."

"The need?" Spock asked. Was Sarek a part of it in some yet undefined way?

"She is a woman of her own mind. She also readily acknowledges that should the Vulcan High Council determine that the Consortium is posing a danger, the Council would intervene mostly forcefully."

"You are the conduit between the Council and the Consortium," Spock said in realization. That his father did not deny it was proof enough. "Amanda knows?"

"She does. She has no involvement outside her knowledge."

Spock absorbed all that Sarek had told him, his head buzzing with the information. He was not sure he could absorb all that his father had said, so unexpected was what he had revealed. "Will the time come when I am the liaison between the Consortium and the Council?" Spock finally asked.

Sarek shook his head at that. "I refused to allow you to be named my successor. I do not wish for the connection to remain through our lineage. When I am no longer _tersaya _another will be chosen."

"Do you believe I am incapable of adequately performing as _tersaya_?" Spock asked. He did not want the position. He also did not want his father to get away with insulting him if he could stop it.

"I know that you are in fact the best choice to succeed me as _tersaya._ I requested another be chosen in order to spare you the complications inherent in the position. That you are considering entering a relationship with a member of Consortium makes it more imperative that another be chosen."

"Indeed," Spock said. He felt his father's eyes on his face as he considered all that he had learned. He could hardly fathom the information. "Does Kirk know of your position?"

"He does not. Most of those in the Consortium are aware that the High Council retains some degree of observation but not by whom. Christopher Pike is aware of my role but does not discuss it with any others."

"Christopher Pike," Spock said in acknowledgment.

"He is directly responsible for the coterie which includes Kirk."

"Which also includes McCoy, Scott, Chekov, and Sulu," Spock said.

"Among others. Only Pike and Tahla know the entire membership. It is safer for everyone concerned that the members retain credible deniability."

"Logical," Spock had to agree. "Would you object if I pursued a relationship with Jim Kirk?"

"Your choice of partners is not my concern so long as you do not marry beneath your abilities."

Spock translated that in his head to mean that as long as they were smart enough, he was free to choose. They had never before discussed any possible romantic liaisons that Spock might wish to pursue but Jim Kirk was unique in many ways. Just how many ways was something Spock was continually learning.

"Do you think you may wish to pursue a romance with him?" Sarek asked, watching his son.

"I do not know," Spock answered. Because he did not know what he wanted with Jim Kirk. Mostly what he wanted at the moment was to talk to him – face to face. But that was not possible. Nor would it have been advisable were it possible. He admittedly needed time to consider these new facts before seeing Jim Kirk again.

"Come and eat," Sarek said, standing and looking down at his son. "You will talk with him when he returns?"

"Undoubtedly," Spock agreed, following his father out and into the dining room where he greeted his mother before they sat down to lunch.

~o0o~

"So how long do you think we'll be here?" Bones asked Jim the next afternoon when they were standing outside the war room where the Prime Minister was meeting with his cabinet.

"No idea. A week? Maybe less. Depends," Jim said with a shrug.

"Yeah." Bones leaned against a convenient wall, staring out the window and watching the snow fall.

"You want to go home? I don't think your services will be needed. Willie and I can handle it if you want to go."

"You can. I'm not," Bones said, ending that particular conversation. He had no choice but to smile when Jim laughed.

"Understood," Jim said, smiling affectionately at his friend. He watched the new shift of guards arrive to take up their stations, the previous shift reporting that nothing had happened during their watch. The new guards acknowledged with a nod, sending the old ones on their way. Jim watched it all in mild curiosity.

"Everything okay?" Bones asked quietly when Jim took the space on the wall next to Bones.

"Yep. Just listening in."

"Because you are nosy that way."

"Completely," Jim agreed, taking his phone out when it vibrated. He frowned briefly before putting it back in his pocket.

"Who is it?" Bones asked.

"Unknown caller," Jim said with a shrug.

"Why do you lie to me when I always know?"

"I'm not… you aren't… shut up," Jim finally said.

"So who was it?" Bones asked again.

"Spock," Jim finally admitted.

"Then go call him back."

"No. Not until we're home. This is not a conversation we have over the phone."

"What time is it at home?" McCoy asked, studying Jim.

"Four in the morning."

"Which means he's not sleeping. And he has no idea where you are so he could be waking you up for all his knows. You need to call him back."

Jim sighed, staring out the window.

"Go. Find Willie. Come back when you've called him," Bones ordered.

Jim left without another word, going into the converted pantry off the kitchen that they were using as their base of operation. "Hey," he said to Willie when he entered.

"Jim," Willie responded, looking up at him. "Everything okay?"

"Fine. I need to make a call. Can you go stand guard with Len?"

"Sure thing. Take all the time you need. I have nowhere else to be," Willie said with a laugh as he left, closing the door behind him.

Jim took a deep breath and sat in one of the wooden chairs that creaked under his weight. "Spock," he said.

"Are you well?" Spock asked, his voice even and more emotionless than ever, even half way across the world.

"I'm fine. You should be asleep."

"I have not slept particularly well the past two nights," Spock said.

"I see," Jim said, very narrowly stopping the apology trying to spring from his lips.

"I had a lengthy discussion with my father."

"I figured you'd talked to someone," Jim agreed. "I am who I am, Spock."

"As I am aware," Spock said. "I do not wish to discuss the particulars until your return."

"Me neither," Jim had to agree. "Why'd you call?"

"A desire to know that you are unharmed," Spock admitted reluctantly.

Jim smiled at the confession. "I'm fine. Chris will call if something happens. I promise."

"He knows I know?"

"Yeah. I don't have _any_ secrets from him," Jim said, a veiled warning.

"I understand. Now that I am assured you are indeed well, I will hang up."

"All right," Jim agreed.

"Do you know when you will return?" Spock asked before disconnecting as he said he would.

"No. I'll call you when I'm home," Jim said.

"Very well. Will you object if I talk with Pike in your absence?"

"Of course not. It might help," Jim said. "He'll probably know when I'm ready to come home. And he'll call you if I can't."

"Thank you. Leonard is also well?"

"Cranky as ever. Otherwise he's just fine."

"Indeed. Good bye Jim."

"Good bye Spock. Thanks for calling." Jim put his phone back in his pocket, considering the brief conversation. He was very good at compartmentalizing his life. Thinking about Spock while on assignment was dangerous and ill-advised. Didn't seem to matter. For now, he could think of nothing else. Feelings he very much wished he could dispense with rose up, unbidden, unwelcome: regret, sadness, confusion. If he were brutally honest with himself, which he was 99.9% of the time, he'd admit to some loneliness. He had thought for an instant that Spock was someone with whom he would have a chance, more than a fling to fulfill a physical craving. That was not to be his lot in life after all.

Spock had learned the truth. Jim supposed it was inevitable at any rate. If their 'sabbatical' had materialized, he would have had the opportunity to explain his two lives to Spock himself. As it was, duty took precedence. And now… well, now Spock would no doubt be confined in his life to the slot of 'editor.' Although Jim couldn't recall a time that Marjorie had called at 4 in the morning purely to check that he was okay. Nor had she ever seen his scars. Or slept with him, in any sense of the word. So their editor statuses were not equivalent. And Jim could only envision himself growing old alone. Well. Winona had managed. The Kirks were nothing if not self-reliant and resilient.

Shaking himself, he resolutely stood and returned to the hallway where he had been waiting with Bones. It was empty. He took his phone back out and sent Bones a text.

_We're having lunch. Finally. Come to the lower level._

Jim acknowledged and made his way downstairs to what they referred to in their own company as the servants' quarters. Bones and Willie were at the table with some of the house staff, who were conversing with them in broken English. Jim had been serving as translator even though the staff enjoyed the chance to practice English with their visitors.

"Come. Sit," Vasiliy said. He was the major domo of the palace, fiercely loyal to the Prime Minister. Which made him loyal to Jim, Leonard, and Willie.

Jim did as instructed, sitting next to Bones, across from Willie who was talking with one of the pastry chefs, trading recipes from what Jim could gather.

"You okay?" Bones asked as Vasiliy called for more food for their good American friends.

"Yeah. He was… worried, I guess. We'll talk when we get home. He asked if it was okay if he called Chris."

"Good. That will help. You think the rumors are true? That Sarek is the conduit to the Vulcan High Council."

"Wouldn't surprise me," Jim said, thanking the chef for the giant bowl of stew and the fresh baked bread in ample supply.

"I'm sorry," Bones said uselessly.

Jim shrugged, turning to chat with the sous-chef next to him, the one with the bright smile, the beautiful green eyes, the long brown hair. She had flirted shamelessly with him since they first met, which was not slowed by the glowering of the third tier chef who had already laid his claim on her. Which he wasted no time in informing Jim. Jim had listened without once laughing at him, assuring Sudislav he was absolutely _not_ interested in Klavia or her recipes.

"Vasiliy?" Jim said when there was a pause in the conversation.

"Da," the older man responded, his round face lined and worn beyond his years, a reminder of the hardships faced by residents of those areas Russia had claimed as their own, despite the wishes of the inhabitants of those countries. He was smiling at Jim, taking at least 5 years off his face.

"Any word on the inauguration?" Jim asked in Russian in order to include all those at the table.

"Not as of yet. The Minister would like it in ten days time. The Parliament thinks it is overly soon. How can the appropriate dignitaries arrive in that time? The Palace is not prepared. There is much to do," Vasiliy said, shaking his head in dismay at the idea of visitors seeing the Palace before he deemed it perfect.

"Always much to do," Jim agreed. Ten days. He had no desire to remain in Tajikistan for a minimum of ten more days. Not that they weren't being afforded all of the courtesies possible. It was their choice to remain with the workers instead of the elite of the Palace. Even if they had been eating and sleeping upstairs, ten days was still a very long time to be there.

"How long?" Bones asked quietly, Willie also leaning closer.

"Minimum of ten days," Jim responded softly. Bones and Willie did an admirable job of disguising any dismay they might feel for that length of time.

"So much for Christmas, huh?" Bones said with no bitterness.

"Right," Jim said with a shrug. "Your wife forgive you?"

"Always," Willie said with a smile. "Last I heard, she was in Iceland so it's not like she'll be home. I don't think anyway."

"Hell of a way to live," Bones said to no one in particular.

"One we chose," Jim said. Whether it was said to himself or to his friends was of no consequence and they did not comment on his observation.


	17. I Have ESPN

_Isn't it funny that at Christmas something in you gets so lonely for - I don't know what exactly, but it's something that you don't mind so much not having at other times. ~ _Kate L. Bosher

* * *

Jim stood looking out his living room window at the ocean crashing onto the shore. The sky was heavy and dark. It would probably rain before the day was out.

He sighed softly and sipped his coffee, looking at the Christmas tree that was still listing slightly to the right. Either he'd take it out tomorrow or Hikaru would. Made no real difference. Christmas had been two weeks ago. He and Bones had only gotten home from Tajikistan last night. This morning. 3 a.m. Bones was still asleep, just like Jim should be. Willie was in the guest room. He'd return to Arizona later today. Or tomorrow. Hardly mattered.

At least their mission had been successful. Grigory Illich-Svitych was once again Prime Minister of Tajikistan. He and Gaila were appreciative and humbled and now life-long friends. Good to have friends in high places. Good to have friends period.

Winona had left the day after Christmas. Jim regretted not having any time to spend with her but she understood. He wasn't sure where she was but he thought maybe California? Tokyo? He'd call her later and check. Or he'd ask Chris. Either way.

"Why are you up?" Bones demanded as he entered the living room, one hand bunched in his hair.

Jim shrugged, turning to look at his friend. Bones would have to be blind not to see the misery in those blue eyes which so rarely sparkled with anything but life and no small amount of mischief.

"I'm sorry," Bones said uselessly. "Are you calling him today?"

Jim shrugged again, returning to his silent contemplation of the ocean.

"I know," Bones agreed, pouring himself some coffee. He held the pot up to Jim in question. When Jim shook his head, Bones returned it to the maker. "You sleep at all?"

"No," Jim said. "Maybe I'll leave."

"No you won't. You think that's what you want. But it's not," Bones told him quietly.

"Maybe I want a real life. One that includes Christmas and New Year's. And sleeping on a regular basis."

"And a month later you'd be climbing the walls in boredom," Bones said. "You always feel this way when we first get home. Plus we thought we were going to have time off."

"Yeah. Grigory promised not to call us again for at least a week," Jim joked lamely.

"Big of him," Bones agreed.

"I thought so. Do you have any idea where Winona is?"

"No," Bone said.

"Me neither. I'm going for a run."

"You know it's 14 degrees outside, right?"

"Oh. 14?" Jim said, looking again out the window. "Is it supposed to snow?"

"45% chance. Come on. I'll make you pancakes," Bones said, going into the kitchen.

"I'm not…."

"I know you're not. I don't care. You're eating anyway," Bones informed him with a frown. "Sit. You _are_ eating."

"When did you become the boss of me?" Jim asked, engaging in their standing routine. Was it any wonder their friends called them Abbot and Costello on such a regular basis?

Bones gave his standard reply, Jim telling him to stop being so grumpy, Bones coaxing Jim into eating his pancakes with a minimum of fuss.

"What are you doing today?" Jim asked Bones as he tidied the kitchen.

"Not a whole lot. If I wake back up in time, I may go over to Nyota's for lunch. You want to come?"

"I wasn't invited," Jim laughed. "Is it just lunch?"

"Stop being such a child," Bones said, giving him a large glass of orange juice with ice in it.

"I don't want juice."

"I don't care. Drink it anyway," Bones said, sitting at the table and staring at him until he did it.

"I'm fine. Why are you hovering?"

"You are _not_ fine. You are sulking. You have lost at least 10 pounds. You are verging on dehydration because you won't eat or drink anything but coffee."

"I don't sulk," Jim protested, finishing the juice and crunching noisily on an ice cube.

"You most certainly do. And it's not like you don't deserve to be able to. Call Spock. Have it out. Then have sex."

Jim shook his head, eating another ice cube.

"God but you are stubborn," Bones said, shaking his head. "I'm going back to bed for a couple of hours. I'd suggest you do the same but you'll just ignore me."

Jim shrugged innocently.

"Do _not_ go for a run. If I get up and find out you did, I will sedate you," Bones threatened.

"Yes mom." Jim watched him retreat to his room before returning to the window to watch the ocean beneath the heavy sky. He would have liked to run but it really was too cold. And Bones would make good on his threat if he did it.

Jim knew he was over-tired and was sulking, just like Bones said. But there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it. Not right now. He knew equally well that by tomorrow, his personal black clouds would be lifted and life wouldn't seem so…. Well. He didn't have a word for it.

When the phone rang, he considered ignoring it. He knew that there was better than a 50-50 chance it was Spock. They hadn't spoken since Spock had called him in Tajikistan. Jim had talked to Pike who said Spock had called once. Chris didn't provide any details about their conversation but Jim didn't need confirmation that he was the main, if not the only, topic.

When the ringing stopped short of the machine picking up and started back immediately, he conceded to the inevitable and answered. "Hi Spock."

"Jim," Spock said, his voice toneless. "Did I wake you?"

"No."

"Can you come for lunch?" Spock asked.

"Is there any point?" Jim asked.

"We have much to discuss."

"Not necessarily."

"You have already determined my reaction to your secret identity?"

"I'm not Batman," Jim said, an edge of impatience in his voice.

"I did not intend to imply that you are, Jim. I am requesting that you listen to me before you determine that I disapprove."

"I'm not looking for your approval," Jim retorted.

"That you are angry is unfortunate," Spock said, his voice harder and decidedly less friendly. "I am not the cause."

"How do you know?" Jim demanded. "Maybe I'm pissed because you called. Maybe I don't want to talk to you. Maybe I'll break my contract and go to another publisher."

"Please call me when you are less irrational," Spock said, hanging up in Jim's ear.

Well. Jim admitted to himself he totally deserved that. And Spock did not deserve his anger. He was right – he'd done nothing to cause it.

"Hey," Jim said when Chris answered.

"Go to sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up," Chris said.

"Are you psychic? Is that how you know why I'm calling?"

"I have ESPN. Among other things. And you sound like hell. You haven't slept since you got home. I doubt you slept very much over there. Unless I miss my guess, you just talked to Spock."

"You have frighteningly unnatural talents. You really are a Jedi, aren't you?"

"Maybe. Seriously. Go to bed. Take one of Bones' magic yellow pills. A good 12 hours of sleep will provide you a whole new perspective. Then you can call Spock and tell him you are sorry you were such an ass."

"What would be the point?" Jim asked.

"Jim," Chris said in nearly tangible sympathy. "He wants to be more than your editor. He knows that it's not going to be easy. You can't let your terror of anything that smacks of commitment ruin the possibility of a really good thing."

"I am committed to Bones," Jim protested.

"Hardly the same," Chris reminded him. "You told me that you really really like Spock. You are willing to risk catching the cooties to be with him. Go back to bed. When you finally wake up, call him."

"Okay," Jim sighed. "Then will you come over so we can open Christmas presents?"

"Yes," Chris laughed. "I'll come for dinner."

"Okay," Jim agreed. "If we're still asleep, take whatever you want. We won't notice."

"I do know that," Chris said. "I'll see you at 6."

"Good," Jim said, hanging up. He immediately dialed Spock who answered after five very long rings. "I'm sorry."

"I accept," Spock said.

"Can you come out for lunch tomorrow? I'll make you plomeek soup if you send me the recipe." Jim could hear Spock's barely disguised smile on the other end of the phone.

"I will come. I do not require plomeek soup. Potato soup will be fine."

"Okay. I'm going back to bed now. When I finally wake up, I'm sure I'll have a much better perspective."

"It sounds as though you already do," Spock said warmly.

"Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'm looking forward to it," Spock agreed, hanging up.

~o0o~

The sleep barely wanted to release Jim as he groggily surfaced to the sounds of voices in the living room. He considered remaining in bed, pretending he was still asleep, but that would be childish and immature. Were those the same? Shouldn't a writer be more articulate than that? Should he be laying in bed arguing with himself?

Sighing, he got out of his warm, cozy bed and hurried over to his bathroom. After a quick shower, he felt a little more human.

He wasn't surprised to enter his living room to find it practically overflowing with friends. They were on every available surface, the couch filled with the lounging and entwined Hikaru and Pavel. Bones was in his recliner, snug with Nyota in his lap, her fine jean-clad legs over one arm. Chris was in the armchair, talking to Scotty who was sitting on the ottoman facing him. Willie was stretched out on the floor, leaning up against the stones of the fireplace. Jim thought he might be too warm but he didn't seem concerned. Sam and Denise Giotto were talking quietly in the kitchen, waving over at Jim when they saw him wander in.

"Did I miss dinner?" Jim asked with a yawn.

"Nope," Bones said. "Another 20 minutes."

"Kay," Jim acknowledged. "What are y'all making?"

"Meatloaf and mashed potatoes," Sam told him.

"Yum." Jim sat on the floor at the end of the couch, wondering why they didn't have more chairs. There always seemed to be plenty before.

"We're opening presents after dinner," Chris informed him. "Will you be awake?"

"I'm planning to be," Jim said. "What do we have to drink?"

"Depends," Bones said. "What do you want?"

"Eggnog," Jim said, watching Chris drink his.

"You're allergic to eggnog," Nyota said, shaking her head at him.

"Am I?" he said, yawning.

"Probably," Bones laughed.

"Hmm…." Jim said.

"Ve vill get you some," Pavel said, jumping up, Hikaru following him into the kitchen.

"This year," Jim yelled after them.

"Yeah, yeah," Hikaru responded from near the pantry.

"Why don't they just make-out out here?" Jim asked no one in particular.

"Why are you shouting?" Willie asked, making everyone else laugh.

"He always does," Sam laughed as he delivered Jim a glass of eggnog. "It has some Christmas spirits in it."

"Thanks," Jim said, sipping it. "Mmm… Just right."

"Thanks. I live to serve," Sam said, standing over him to smile down at him.

"Where are the kids?" Jim asked Sam.

"What kids?" Sam laughed.

"They're overnighting at my mom's," Denise said from the kitchen. "Sam, please come mash the potatoes."

"At least Denise knows," Jim said with a laugh as Sam returned to the kitchen.

"A mom always knows," Denise reminded him. "Someone needs to come in here and set the table."

"Hikaru and Pavel are still in the pantry. They can do it," Bones said.

"Come on Dr. Grumpy," Nyota said, sliding off his lap and holding her hand out to him when she stood in front of him.

"Yes ma'am," he agreed, following her into the dining room.

"What is today?" Jim asked no one in particular.

"Saturday. January 8," Willie told him.

"Okay," Jim said. "You staying until tomorrow?"

"I am," Willie agreed.

"Sam is flying him to Arizona in the morning," Chris added.

"I thought I was," Scotty said, taking Jim's eggnog from his unresisting hand to drink from it.

"You can go if you want. Sam volunteered," Chris said.

"Okay," Scotty said with a shrug.

"Come with me," Sam requested. "We'll buzz over to California. Thaw out then come home."

"You can't use the Consortium shuttles for joy riding," Chris told them, trying unsuccessfully to sound stern.

"Fine," Sam said with a shrug, helping Denise put the food on the table.

"We're ready," Denise said, everyone migrating into the dining room to take a seat. Once Hikaru and Pavel emerged from the pantry, the table was a little crowded, but nobody minded the tight quarters.

Dinner was an unqualified success, Jim proposing to Denise after his third helping of meatloaf. Sam said it was fine with him but Jim had to take the children too. Package deal he said. Jim graciously declined.

After they had finished eating, they returned to the living room, opening presents with much laughter and friendship shared. Jim got an impressive number of briefs, some with cartoons imprinted on them – his favorite the Star Wars ones that Chris gave him.

Leonard also got briefs, none of them as impressive as Jim's. He also got a hip flask which he declared the perfect size to fit in his doctor's bag.

Nyota loved the watch Leonard gave her, many oohs and aahs at the presentation. She also liked the earrings Jim gave her, certain that Leonard had picked them out.

Chris enjoyed the gifts he received, glad there was no underwear in any of his packages. There were mysteriously gifts for Willie, Sam, and Denise, no one questioning that Christmas magic.

Hikaru and Pavel loved opening their presents, declaring that everyone had to play the new Einstein Monopoly Chris gave them. Some tried to decline but their persuasiveness was not to be denied. About the time everyone owed their souls to Pavel it was declared bedtime.

Jim and Bones said good-night to those leaving, some staying and retreating to their designated rooms. Nyota slipped into Leonard's room, a couple of wolf whistles following her. She just ignored them, closing the door against their childish nosiness.

Jim wandered into his bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed and looking over as Bones entered, closing the door.

"You okay?" Bones asked.

Jim shrugged, waiting as his best friend sat next to him.

"I know. Do you want me to make myself scarce when Spock comes tomorrow?"

"No. I'd rather have you here. If he doesn't like it…" Jim said, trailing off and laying down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. "It'd be a lot simpler if you and I were…"

"It would. But we're not. Spock will accept you for who you are. Or he won't. He doesn't, then it's his loss."

"He talked to Sarek. He has to know most of the truth. And he's still coming to lunch. So," Jim said with a shrug.

"That's good at least."

"Yeah. Chris thinks I have commitment issues," Jim said.

"That's because you do," Bones reminded him. "You always have."

"And?" Jim laughed softly. "Except with you."

"Because you can walk away from me any time you want."

"But I never will. I have abandonment issues too."

"You are a complete mess," Bones said affectionately. "Do I need to give you a sleeping pill?"

"No. The spiked eggnog helped. And I don't have hives."

"A pleasant change of pace," Bones acknowledged. "If you need me, don't worry about knocking. All we'll be doing is sleeping."

"Kay. Thanks." Jim watched Bones leave his bedroom, silently thankful for having such an exceptional friend. He didn't think he deserved all the love the Bones had for him but it was definitely reciprocal. And appreciated.

Resolving not to think about it any more, Jim got ready for bed, relaxing as sleep came over him.


	18. Chillie Waters and the Ice Floes

_We dance round in a ring and suppose,  
__But the Secret sits in the middle and knows._ ~Robert Frost, In the Clearing

* * *

"Because I need to talk to him alone," Jim said for the third or fourth time as Sulu and Chekov continued to stall. "Seriously, guys. You can come back tomorrow. Or even tonight. No. Not tonight. You have houses. Can't you go to them, please?"

"Throwing us out," Hikaru said to Pavel with a shake of his head. "After all we've done for him. And he just throws us out like yesterday's coffee grounds."

"He has no gratitude," Pavel said sadly. "Ve vill be leaving. You can be calling us. Ve don't know that ve vill be answering."

"I'm willing to take my chances," Jim said, walking them to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow. You can come to breakfast as long as it's after 9 o'clock."

"Fine," Sulu said. "Come on, Pav. We'll find somewhere to go that we're actually wanted."

"Da," Pavel said sadly, laughing when Jim blew them kisses.

"Well," Jim said, looking around the living room to make sure everyone had in fact left. It was empty except for Bones who was building a fire.

"Go peel the potatoes. I'll be there in a minute."

"Okay," Jim agreed. He had them mostly peeled when Bones came into the kitchen carrying a brightly wrapped gift. "What's this?"

"Your Christmas present. I didn't want to give it to you last night."

"Why not? The guys would have understood."

Bones shrugged, giving it to him. "Merry Christmas, kid."

Jim smiled at him, sitting at the table with the gift. He opened it, enjoying the process of slowly revealing what lay beneath the brightly colored Santas and elves and reindeer. When the wrappings were discarded, he found the entire collection of CDs by Chillie Waters and the Ice Floes, Jim's favorite band from forever. Before Jim had published his first book, he considered becoming a Chillie Dog – following the band from venue to venue, selling Ice Floe tee-shirts. Instead, he became an author, a respectable professional.

Not only did the present consist of the Ice Floes' entire collection, there were tickets to three of their shows to be played over the next few months.

"Wow," Jim said, looking up at Bones with sparkling blue eyes. "This is totally awesome."

"You're welcome," Bones responded with a smile. "You're never too old to be a Chillie Dog."

"You'll come with me?"

"Unless Spock goes," Bones said, shaking his head.

"He doesn't strike me as the Ice Floes type," Jim laughed.

"And I am?"

"Well," Jim said, tilting his head to pretend to consider it.

"Don't answer that," Bones grumbled, picking up the peeler and finishing the potatoes before chopping the onion.

"Thank you, Bones. Seriously," Jim said with a bright smile.

"You're welcome," Bones said, smiling at him. "I guess we have to suffer through the greatest hits now, huh?"

"You love the Floes. You just like to pretend that you don't," Jim said with a laugh.

"Whatever. Go answer the door."

"I'm going," Jim assured him, opening it to admit Spock. "Hi."

"Jim," Spock said, his expression guarded. Jim felt self-conscious with him and regretted it had come to this. But he couldn't be sure what Spock might say or what would come of their inevitable talk.

"Let me have your coat," Jim said, opening the coat closet to hang it up. "Come on into the kitchen. Bones is finishing up the soup."

Spock nodded, following Jim into the kitchen and greeting Leonard.

"Would you like some tea?" Jim asked Spock, putting on the kettle.

"I would," Spock agreed, watching Jim move about the kitchen. "Is there anything I may do to assist?" Spock asked Leonard.

"Not a thing," Leonard said. "Thanks though. It'll be ready in about 15 minutes. Get the bread out of the cabinet," he requested from Jim who did it. Bones put it in the oven to let it heat up as the potatoes boiled happily on the stove.

"You are a fan of the Ice Floes?" Spock asked, addressing neither of them. Or both of them.

"Jim is," Leonard answered. "Part of his misspent youth."

"That is so not true," Jim protested. "I was _never_ a Chillie Dog."

"I have been witness to one of their presentations," Spock said. "It was quite…lively."

"That's a good word for it," Bones agreed.

"Bones gave these to me for Christmas," Jim said, putting the CDs and tickets up out of the way. The kettle was whistling so Jim filled Spock's cup with boiling water, the Vulcan tea already in the infuser waiting.

"Is it presumptuous of me to inquire what you gave to him?" Spock asked, making Jim and Leonard laugh.

"Not at all," Leonard said. "He's not allowed to give me anything."

Spock lifted one inquiring eyebrow at that response. "Indeed."

"He made the rule," Jim said innocently

"Not until you gave me the car," Leonard said sternly.

"A car," Spock repeated, hidden amusement nearly showing through.

Jim shrugged at that. "Well. He needed a new car. He was driving this awful van thing. _Totally_ not fitting for a doctor. So I bought him a car for Christmas."

"A Mercedes. It was very cliché. Just like one of those idiotic commercials. He drug me out in the snow and cold and there it was in the driveway with a giant red bow on top. After that, I told him he was _never_ allowed to get me a Christmas present," Leonard said, frowning at Jim."

"Are there photographs of this event?" Spock asked.

"Of course," Jim said. "I'll find them after lunch."

"You most certainly will not," Leonard corrected, turning his attention to Spock. "Would you like something to drink besides your tea?"

"A glass of wine," Spock said in agreement, glancing over at Jim. "If it is not inconvenient."

"Not in the least," Bones assured him, giving him a glass of white wine.

"Are you the only occupants of the house at present?" Spock asked, making Jim laugh softly.

"Finally. We threw the last of them out this morning. Before they could make us play Monopoly one more time," Jim said.

"Monopoly is an interesting game," Spock said. "I have played on several occasions. My mother enjoys it."

"We played last night. Until Pavel owned all of our properties and some of our as yet unborn children," Jim said, sipping his Pepsi.

"What will he do with the children?" Spock asked seriously, making Jim and Leonard laugh.

"He has no idea," Jim said with a shrug. "Maybe we only had to promise to name all of our children after him."

"That is a much more reasonable expectation," Spock agreed.

"We thought so," Leonard said. "Did you have a good Christmas?"

"My mother enjoys the holiday. My father indulges her. I do as well," Spock admitted.

"That's what Christmas is for," Leonard said. "Family. Friends. Food."

"Presents," Jim added.

"Only for the children or the childish," Bones told him.

Jim shrugged at that. "Did you and your family stay here?"

"We did," Spock said. "Mother had suggested we go to Canada but my father declined. He prefers to avoid snow whenever possible."

"Most Vulcans do," Jim said. "Is there some place in Canada you usually visit?"

"Mother enjoys Prince Edward Island. It can be quite inhospitable in the winter."

"I would imagine so," Jim said. "I've never been to Prince Edward Island."

"Indeed," Spock said in mild surprise. "I was under the impression there were not many places you had not been."

"I get around," Jim agreed. "But I haven't been _everywhere."_

"Almost," Bones said, stabbing the potatoes to test their doneness.

"So have you," Jim reminded him.

"I don't always go," Bones said.

"Have you always… traveled together?" Spock asked. He was trying very hard not to sound overly interested but he suspected he had not succeeded in hiding his curiosity.

"Generally," Jim said. "We entered at the same time. We are assigned together about 50% of the time."

"More like 65%," Bones corrected. "Otherwise I can't be sure you'll come back alive."

"True," Jim agreed. "I know you are, to put it in very Human terms, dying of curiosity."

"I admit to… some interest," Spock said. "Sarek provided an overview of the organization. He did not share any details."

Jim nodded at that, looking over at Bones. "And he is the _tersaya?"_

"He is. A fact of which I was unaware until he and I talked."

"We speculated he was the conduit between the Consortium and the High Council but we never knew for sure," Bones said.

"You were aware before we became acquainted?" Spock asked.

"No," Jim said. "We suspected. It could have been him or Sepek."

"My money was on T'Shanik," Leonard said.

"Both likely candidates," Spock agreed. "Neither are of the Shi'Kahr Clan."

"We had no idea it was your clan," Leonard said.

"Nor did I," Spock said, his voice a little softer than what they had learned was normal.

"This can't be easy for you," Leonard said sympathetically. "It had to have been quite a surprise."

"Yes," Spock agreed. "Not solely learning of your involvement."

"Why did Sarek keep it a secret from you?" Jim asked, his tone sympathetic and not at all accusatory.

"He had decided I would not follow him as _tersaya_. He had hoped to shield me from the Clan's involvement."

"Then I came along," Jim said.

"Indeed. Had our relationship remained professional, I believe he would have not told me even now."

Jim nodded at that, glancing over at Bones who was watching him even as he mashed the potatoes for the soup. "At the risk of being a cliché, how do you feel about what he told you?" Jim asked.

"Which part?" Spock asked in return.

"Every part," Jim responded.

"He could have avoided it by not assigning Jim to you," Bones pointed out.

"I believe he had no reason to think our relationship would be other than that of editor and writer."

"He had no idea of how irresistible I am," Jim said with an over-the-top smile.

"God but you're egotistical," Bones scowled.

"_If you done it, it ain't bragging_," Jim quoted.

"Thank you, Yogi Berra."

"Walt Whitman," Jim corrected.

"You sure?" Bones asked.

"Walt Whitman," Spock confirmed. "Often misattributed to Yogi Berra and Dizzy Dean."

"Whatever. Get the bread out of the oven," Bones ordered as he dished the soup out into bowls.

"Yes sir. Right away sir," Jim said, doing as he was asked. Spock watched and listened, his amusement only in his dark, sparkling eyes.

"Thank you," Leonard said with exaggerated patience, making Jim roll his eyes.

"What else do you want to know?" Jim asked Spock when they were at the table, the food hot and ready.

"What are you at liberty to reveal?" Spock asked in return.

"Pretty much anything. Chris gave us permission to tell you whatever you want to know, outside of names," Jim said.

"I see. That shows much trust on his part."

"Not when your father is _tersaya," _Leonard said. "If we don't tell you, you only have to ask him."

Spock shook his head at that. "I do not know that he would tell me."

Jim shrugged. "Ask away," he said, a casual wave of his hand. "If we can't answer, we'll tell you."

Spock ate his soup silently, considering the invitation. "Now that you have provided me permission, I do not know what I wish to know."

"Do you want to know what we do? Where we go? Who we've encountered?" Leonard suggested.

"I have some idea of your actions. Sarek informed me that Jim is an assassin. You will also kill if necessary."

Leonard nodded, glancing over at Jim who was calmly eating his soup. "Jim doesn't kill as often as outsider believe. Only when it's necessary."

"And who deems it is necessary? To take another life?" Spock asked. Jim nearly started at the question but remained impassive.

"The Consortium. They tell Chris and Chris tells us. I don't kill without proper authority," Jim said.

"Perhaps no one truly has the authority to take another life," Spock suggested.

"In our world, they do," Leonard said evenly.

"There's not really much point in having a philosophical discussion about what we do or on whose authority we do it," Jim said, his voice free of accusation or guilt. "All societies have means of eliminating those who would do unrepentant harm to others."

"Vulcans do not have an arrangement such as you describe," Spock responded.

"Can you be sure?" Jim asked. "You didn't know about the Consortium or your father's involvement until very recently. And the Consortium was originally established by the Vulcan High Council."

"For purposes which are no longer in effect. The original mandate has been… corrupted."

"By mere Humans," Jim suggested. The words fell as chips of ice, the same ice that was freezing his cold blue eyes.

"That was not the intent of my words," Spock said, black frozen eyes meeting blue. He finally shook his head, looking away from Jim. "I… confess I find that portion of your life …disturbing."

"I know," Jim agreed quietly, anger easing somewhat.

"I believed we had the possibility of a…future. I am no longer certain."

"I know," Jim repeated.

"Why does finding out change your opinion?" Leonard asked evenly. He didn't let any of his own anger come through his tone or his expression. "Jim is still who he is. He's an excellent writer. He's overly egotistical but that's his biggest flaw. I'm a surgeon. And a fairly good cook. None of that is negated by our association with the Consortium."

"You are paid assassins," Spock said. "I do not know how that cannot alter my view."

"What if you hadn't found out?" Leonard asked.

"Then Jim would have been living a lie. I do not think it could have remained secret indefinitely."

"Marjorie never knew," Jim said.

"She never questioned your frequent and mysterious absences?" Spock asked.

"She figured I was eccentric. And since we weren't seeing each other socially, I didn't talk to her every day. The Consortium tried not to send me on assignment when my final drafts were due. She never noticed I wasn't around other times."

"Our personal relationship is… unusual. In that we also have a professional one," Spock said.

"Does Sarek object?" Leonard asked.

"He does not."

"Then here's the thing," Jim said smoothly, evenly. His tone would have made any Vulcan proud. "I am who I am. The person you know – the writer, the one _some_ people think of as a spoiled man-child. I like to run – no I hate to run but I do it anyway. I speak 12 languages and can get by in a few more. I go to Paraguay to research threatened indigenous languages and drag Hikaru along with me. I write and publish books which to my never-ending surprise become best sellers. Then I have to make the rounds, which includes, God help me, visiting Oprah.

"I'm also a member of the Consortium. We do things we don't and can't discuss. I take orders from Christopher Pike. I don't question them. I don't refuse them. I'm a licensed shuttle pilot. And on occasion my employment with the Consortium means I kill people – people who the world is better off without. I've been shot, stabbed, nearly drowned, almost died of hypothermia twice, and broken more bones than even Leonard can keep track of.

"I won't say living two lives is easy. It isn't. But we've chosen this life.

"When you and I met for the first time, I didn't know what to think. Then you showed me your Human side and…well. I don't need to tell you what happened. I _can_ tell you I felt for you something I hadn't felt before. Not for anyone. Now you've found out that I have two lives. If you walk away, I'll survive. I'll regret that we couldn't make it work. But I will not and cannot change who I am. Not for you. Not for anyone. Which means the choice is yours."

Jim finally stopped, taking a deep breath, wishing it weren't so complicated. But it was. And pretending wasn't going to change any of it. What happened next was entirely up to Spock and Jim was going to have to wait as he made that decision.

Jim could feel the tension in Bones' body, coiled and ready to flee or fight, depending on how Spock ultimately reacted. Jim calmly ate his soup, not staring at Spock as much as he wanted to. He could tell Spock was considering all that had been said, his face carefully blank in the best Vulcan tradition.

"I cannot," Spock finally said, his voice soft and full of regret.

"I understand," Jim said with a nod.

"Perhaps it is best if I leave," Spock said, looking at Jim and then at Leonard.

"That's your choice," Jim said.

Spock nodded and stood. He retrieved his own coat and left silently, closing the door behind him.

Jim calmly stood, took the rum from the cabinet and filled his glass with it. There was still some Pepsi left but that was a minor inconvenience at best.

"That didn't go especially well, did it?" Bones finally said.

Jim laughed, a hard bitter sound. "You are the master of understatements."

"That's me," Bones agreed. "I am sorry."

Jim shrugged. "I figured he'd leave. I kill people. He's a vegetarian. Not exactly a match made in heaven."

"You can be as sarcastic as you want. I know you're hurt by this," Bones said, studying Jim.

"Of course I'm hurt. I'm also a realist. You're going to marry Nyota and I'm going to grow old and bitter - alone."

"Old and bitter, maybe. Alone - never," Bones assured him. "Go call Chris."

"That's your default for everything, isn't it?" Jim asked in a weary voice.

"No, you idiot. He's your boss. He needs to know."

"You call him. I'm going to finish this rum and then go swimming."

"Go swimming first. I don't want to have to haul your drunken ass out of our pool."

"Fine," Jim said, standing up. "You have to come with me. It's a rule, you know."

"I do know. Since I made the rule," Bones agreed, taking the phone as he followed Jim into his bedroom. He called Chris, leaving him a message to call when he had the chance. Jim emerged from his dressing room in his swim trunks and tee shirt, going with Bones to the covered, heated pool.

Jim discarded his tee shirt, diving cleanly into the pool. He liked swimming only a little more than he liked running but at least it wasn't as hard on his body. And the warm water was very soothing, especially right now.

His conversation with Spock insisted on replaying in his head and he felt some sadness trying to well up. He didn't want to mourn what they never had. He didn't want to regret what they had managed to share. But ultimately he was very Human in his reaction and he was saddened by Spock's departure. He didn't blame Spock and wasn't really surprised at the way it had turned out. He had allowed some section of his brain to consider what the future would be like with Spock in it. That part was the most angry, the most hurt. But the rest of his brain blamed his romantic side for trying to take over. He did wonder if other people, _normal_ people, witnessed fights in their own minds but since he was never considered normal, he had no way of knowing.

He slowed and stopped, surfacing at the edge of the pool where Bones waited. He looked up at him breathlessly, frowning in response to the one of his friend's face. "I'm okay."

"Do you know how many laps you swam?"

"Uhm… 10?" Jim guessed. Okay, lied.

"Sure," Bones said, sensing his lie and shaking his head. "Please come out. If you need to swim again, I'll come with you."

Jim nodded and hoisted himself out, accepting the towel. When he was wrapped up in one of the robes, he followed Bones back into the house proper and stood beside the fireplace.

"Are you showering?" Bones asked.

"Yeah. In a minute," Jim responded, watching the dance of the flames.

"Tell me what you're feeling. And don't give me your 'I'm fine' B.S. 'Cause I know it's not so."

Jim sighed, taking the juice Bones shoved at him. He'd have preferred the rest of his rum but that wasn't on the agenda just yet. "I'm disappointed. I'm sorry he couldn't accept me… our lives. I enjoyed his… company. A lot. His conversation. His never-obvious amusement."

"His intelligence that actually challenged yours," Bones added.

"You're smarter than I am," Jim said.

"Not."

"I am regretting what we never had," Jim confessed. "For all my love-em-and-leave-em history, I thought he might be the one."

"I know," Bones said in sympathy. "If our lives were different, he…"

"Please don't say it," Jim requested. "Hearing it inside my own head is one thing. Hearing you say it is an entirely different thing."

"All right," Bones agreed. "Do you want me to call the guys? Or do you want the time alone?"

"I think I need some time with just you and me," Jim said with a shrug. "Do you have a date?"

"No. Not until Thursday. She's leaving for London this afternoon. For her opening."

"Okay," Jim said. "I'm going to shower. Then we'll watch football?"

"Of course," Bones agreed, watching him go toward his bedroom. He sighed, wishing there was something more he could do but knew there wasn't. He went into the kitchen to clean up from lunch and was tempted to pour out the rum with a splash of Pepsi, but that would be wasteful and futile. Besides, Jim didn't often drink and if he ever deserved it, now was one of those times.

"Hey," Jim said when he returned to the living room, dressed in sweats and warm socks.

"Hey yourself," Bones said, looking up at him. "You seem perkier."

Jim shrugged, settling on the couch. "I think I'm going to find Winona and go visit her."

"I like that idea," Bones agreed. "Since you didn't get to spend Christmas with her."

"Exactly. Did Chris call? He'll know where she is."

"No he didn't. Why don't you just call her?"

"If it's the middle of the night where she is, I don't want to risk waking her," Jim said.

"Then text her. If she's asleep, she won't respond," Bones pointed out sensibly.

"Oh yeah," Jim agreed, going into the kitchen for his cell phone. He sent his mom a text, smiling when the phone immediately rang. "Hey."

"Hi darling. What are you doing?" Winona asked, a smile in her voice.

"Not a whole lot. Wondering where you are."

"I'm in Prague, dear. Why?"

"I was thinking about coming to see you. Since we didn't see each other over Christmas."

"That would be lovely. But first you have to tell me what's wrong," Winona said.

Jim sighed and gave her an abbreviated version of what had happened.

"I'm sorry. Come to Prague. We'll go to Old Town. Watch the clock. Eat too much food."

"How long will you be there?" Jim asked.

"A week. Longer if you want to stay."

"Then we can go to Tuscany and see Marjorie," Jim suggested.

"That would be lovely," Winona agreed. "When will you get here?"

"I have to talk to Chris first. Once I know, I'll email you."

"All right, dear. I look forward to seeing you." She hung up, Jim looking over at Bones.

"You don't mind, right?"

"Of course not," Bones assured him. "It will be good for you. Just make sure you come back in time for the first Ice Floes concert."

"I will," Jim said with a nod. "If I stay with mom for a week, then we go see Marjorie, I'll be home in plenty of time."

"All right," Bones said. "At the risk of being redundant, you have to call Chris."

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "Or I can wait until he calls me."

"True," Bones said, watching Jim before focusing on his laptop.

"What are you doing?"

"Uhmm… let's see. Reading my email. Catching up on medical journals. Reading the _NY Times._ Wondering why you are so nosy. Looking for new recipes I can use to hide vegetables so you will actually eat them."

"So it really is all about me," Jim said with a goofy grin.

"Did you ever have reason to doubt it?" Bones asked in return, laughing when Jim did.


	19. You Could Burn Water

_Ask me why I keep on loving you when it's clear that you don't feel the same way for me... the problem is that as much as I can't force you to love me, I can't force myself to stop loving you. ~_Author Unknown

* * *

Jim entered the headquarters of the Consortium, greeting all those who spoke, speaking with a few of his friends, talking about Prague and Tuscany. He wasn't surprised when he looked over at the door to Chris' office to find him staring at him with a frown. "Hi ya Chris," Jim said, just to annoy him that much more.

"I said 9:30. Do you know what time it is now?" Chris asked, trying to sound stern. Trying and failing.

"No idea. Not here. In Tuscany it's…" Jim checked his watch, pulling down his sleeve. "3:45. In the afternoon."

"Which means it's 9:45 in the morning here," Chris pointed out.

"Hmm… good to know," Jim laughed.

Chris shook his head, closing the door when Jim was finally inside. "How are you doing?"

"Doing what?" Jim joked.

"Shut up. I will have you killed," Chris threatened.

"No you won't. You would miss me. Otherwise you wouldn't have called me once a day."

"I most certainly did not. You are delusional, just like Leonard says," Chris groused.

"You wound me," Jim said dramatically, both hands over his heart.

"Right. Seriously, Mr. Wise-acre. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. You know. I stayed busy. He didn't call me."

"I'm sorry," Chris said. "I have your galleys."

"Oh," Jim said. "He didn't want to give them to me himself?"

"He thought it best if I did. Are you going to call him?"

"Is there any point?" Jim asked seriously. "He made his opinion crystal clear. Is he even still my editor?"

"Yes. I talked at some length with Sarek."

"Great," Jim sighed. "Did he ask you to have me killed?"

"Of course not. He feels guilty. As guilty as a Vulcan ever will show. He knows if he hadn't kept Spock in the dark, this wouldn't have happened."

"That sounds more like Spock's mom," Jim said.

"Ahh… while I was talking to his father, you were talking to Amanda."

Jim shrugged. "She called. We talked. She feels bad about what happened. She said Spock talks about me once in a while. She's sorry she and I never met."

"I am too. She loves Spock without question. And she only wants him to be happy."

"Apparently staying away from me is the way for him to accomplish that," Jim said.

"Not necessarily. I suggest you call him. At least let him know you're back."

"It won't help," Jim said.

"All right. Do you want to remain on sabbatical?" Chris asked, less sympathetic and more business.

"I don't care. Do you need me?"

"Not right now. And you're still scheduled for Oprah on February 12."

"Yeah," Jim acknowledged. "There's an Ice Floes concert there on the 10th. Bones said he'd go with me."

"Good. He finally decided he's leaving the hospital?"

"Yeah. They were making more and more noise about regular hours, committees, blah blah blah. Can you really use him full time?"

"_You_ are a full time job," Chris reminded him. "Anyway, I assured him we would employ him full time. Since he's also a psychologist. He'll be handy to have around. We'll pay him what he gets from the hospital. Not that he really needs it. Living with you. Or marrying Nyota. But I know he refuses to be kept."

"True," Jim laughed. "He'll be a lot better off working for you full time."

"He'll actually be working for Tahla," Chris pointed out with a smile.

"We all do," Jim agreed.

"You a little less than some," Chris said.

"Yeah, I know," Jim said with a shrug. "How were things here while I was gone?"

"Surprisingly quiet. You attract trouble. Were you arrested or hospitalized in Europe?"

"Nope. No arrests. No medical emergencies. Mom made sure. Are you coming to dinner tonight?"

"I'm planning to. Winona invited me. She also invited me to breakfast," Chris confided with a smooth wink, making Jim laugh.

"I see. Well. Good for you, I guess. You can have my room. It's more soundproof than the Jane Austen room."

"Should you be having this discussion about your own mother?" Chris asked.

"Maybe not. Are you going to be my new daddy?" Jim asked, making Chris frown at him. "I know. I know. You can have me killed."

"Yes I can. And I'm more tempted by the minute."

"You don't scare me. You know that, right?"

Chris snorted at him, reaching over for the galleys. "Can you have them back tomorrow?"

"Isn't tomorrow Saturday?" Jim asked, accepting them.

"Yes. Sarek will have a special run once you return them. We're cutting it close to get it on the shelves as it is."

"It wasn't my schedule. They decided. Marjorie tired to tell them but they knew best."

"So I've noticed," Chris agreed. He told Jim of what he had missed while he was gone, routine missions involving several members of the Consortium, a handful more on the schedule to be undertaken in the next few weeks.

"Don't you want me to go to Tasmania?" Jim asked, looking over that mission briefing.

"No. It's at the same time as your appearance on Oprah. Hikaru and Scotty can handle it. We may send Pavel but he has class."

"Hikaru is in graduate school, isn't he?" Jim asked. _Sure_, he should have known. But he didn't. Sulu hadn't discussed it with him and he only knew it was a possibility because Pavel had mentioned it at Marjorie's party. _Lord_. That was a long time ago.

"You don't know?" Chris asked with a laugh.

"I'm way too self-absorbed to keep up with him," Jim said.

"I won't argue with that. He is in graduate school. But since he has Richard as his instructor and advisor, it's not a problem."

"Okay. Hikaru isn't planning on asking me to do his homework, is it?"

"Hardly. He wants to _pass_. Have you seen them since you got back?"

"No. They're coming for lunch. Hopefully they're _bringing_ lunch."

"They better if they want to eat," Chris agreed.

"That's for sure. It's okay if Hikaru and I go to Paraguay in late March?"

"Of course. We'll manage to get by without you. Although it won't be easy."

"I do know that," Jim said with a smile. "How are you getting the galleys back to Spock?"

"I'll collect them in the morning. And then I'll drop them off."

"Works for me," Jim agreed. "If you don't need me for anything else right now, I'm going to go and do my homework."

"You are dismissed," Chris agreed with a smile.

"Thank you kindly. Is there something specific you want for dinner?"

"I want to make sure you aren't cooking," Chris teased.

"I can cook," Jim protested.

"Yeah. And then you get distracted and write two new chapters and the rice burns. You are the only person I know who can actually burn water."

Jim shrugged innocently at that. "All right. Mom and I will find something to make. If Pavel and Hikaru are too…busy to cook."

"Good. Are you going to just rent them rooms in your house?"

"I've considered it," Jim laughed. "I should build a guest house. So they'd be close by but not all up into my business."

"You love having them into your business," Chris pointed out.

Jim shrugged, putting his coat on. "I'll see you later."

"Right. Call Spock."

"No," Jim said, leaving Chris' office, Chris' laughter following him out.

Jim said goodbye to his friends, returning to his car and taking out his cell phone. He called Hikaru who confirmed that they were on their way for lunch and bringing everything they needed to make it. He then called Winona who said there wasn't anything in town she needed. Taking a chance, he called Bones, leaving a message when there was no answer. His phone tempted him to call Spock but he really didn't see any point in it. They had said everything that needed to be said before Jim went to Prague.

He got home before the boys, talking briefly with his mom before going into his office with the galleys. He vaguely heard Pavel and Hikaru come in the house and speak to Winona but he didn't pay much attention to their sounds. If any of them needed him, they'd know where to find him.

He started when his phone rang, looking at the display and refusing to notice the tiny spark of excitement that had flared at the first sound. "Hello," he said when he answered, a smile in his voice.

"What the hell, Jim?" Christine Chapel demanded. She'd been the hospital administrator for three and half years, an extremely capable and caring chief of operations. That she adored Leonard was beyond question, in a purely platonic _he's an incredible surgeon_ kind of way.

"Good to hear from you, Christine. How can I help you?" Jim asked with a laugh.

"Don't try to butter me up, young man," she said, making it sound as though she were old enough to be his mother. Which she was not. Older sister, yes. Mother, definitely not.

"Are you having a good day?" Jim teased. He could hear her answering sigh.

"I am most certainly _not_ having a good day, thank you very much for asking. You really talked him into quitting?" she asked with weary resignation in her voice.

"I'm not the boss of him, Chris. He makes his own decisions for his own reasons," Jim reminded her.

"What's he going to do? Beside your laundry?"

"He's a world renowned surgeon. Hikaru and Pavel do our laundry," Jim laughed.

"Yes, he is a world renowned surgeon. Who until half an hour ago worked at a world renowned health care facility. Now he's gone and quit."

"He doesn't really work for you," Jim reminded her.

"What difference does that make?" she asked firmly. "He said he was leaving. I know you're behind it."

"I'm not," Jim said. "You are too harsh a task master. 'Patient Safety and Satisfaction Committee.' _Really_ Chris?"

"All right. That was a mistake," she conceded. "Corporate decided all employees were required to serve on at least one committee."

"He's not an employee. Did Corporate factor _that_ into their equation?"

"They don't distinguish between employees and sub-contractors," she admitted.

"Except with trivial things like bonuses, health insurance, and profit sharing."

"It was his decision not to be an employee," she said. But there was no firmness to her statement.

"I'm sorry for you that he's leaving," Jim said. "But I promise you I didn't convince him."

"I know," she sighed. "I needed someone to take it out on and Tahla refused to answer her phone."

"I don't know if she's home, love. Nyota said something about Tahla and Kheri going to Minnesota. Bad timing if you ask me."

"Okay. I'll call Nyota now that I'm calmer. I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"No harm no foul," he assured her. "Do you want to come to dinner tonight? Mom's here. And Chris Pike is coming."

"Thank you, dear. I can't. I have a date," she said with a lovely laugh.

"With your husband?"

"Maybe. Maybe it's not any of your business," she said.

"Tell Geoffrey hello for me," Jim said he said with a smile in his voice.

"I might. If I'm not still mad at you," she said.

"I understand. And I _totally_ deserve your ire. I can only hope one day you will be able to forgive me."

"I'll consider it. It would come a lot easier if you happened to make a donation so we can finish the children's wing," she said, laughing when he sighed.

"How much is your forgiveness going to cost me?"

"I'll take that up with Pike. You can call and tell him you agree."

"Without knowing the price?" Jim laughed.

"Phhhht," she said. "A pittance. A trifle. I promise not to name the wing after you."

"Can you name it after Dr. Cranky?"

"That might cost extra," she laughed. "I'll call Pike. I'll tell him you said it was okay for him to give me whatever I want."

"Well. I guess it's worth it if you forgive me," Jim said. "Can he call me after he writes the check so I'll know how long I have to go without eating?"

"I'll consider it," she said. "You know I love you. Even if I am mad at you."

"I love you too, Christine. I'm just sorry you married Geoffrey before I had the change."

Her laugh was his reward. They hung up after their final farewells.

He reviewed several more chapters before Chris Pike called to tell him how much his forgiveness was costing him. Jim was surprised that it wasn't more and told Chris to please make sure they had everything they needed. And that any naming rights were to be in honor of Dr. Leonard H. McCoy.

As he was hanging up, the same Dr. McCoy appeared in his doorway.

"What are you up to?" Bones demanded, one eyebrow lifted in warning.

"Proofing galleys. Making sure Christine Chapel forgives me for making you quit. Naming a hospital wing after you. You know. The usual."

"I do not want that wing named for me," Bones said sternly.

"Too late. As I understand it, they've already ordered the letters for the side of the building," Jim laughed.

"It didn't occur to you to ask me what I thought of that idea?"

"Nope," Jim said. "Is lunch ready?"

Bones snorted and continued on to his bedroom as Jim went into the kitchen to find Pavel and Hikaru actively finishing up the preparations for lunch.

"Where's Mom?" he asked them as Hikaru peeked into the oven.

"Uhmm… Not sure," Hikaru said. "Pasha. Have you seen her?"

"It is my turn to vatch out on her?" Pavel asked, laughing when the other two did.

"I'm right here," Winona said as she emerged from the pantry with a bottle of red wine.

"Hey," Jim said with a smile. "I thought maybe they had lost you."

"I'm not that easily distracted. That's you," she reminded him. "You want some Pepsi, dear?"

"Sure," Hikaru agreed.

"I think she meant me," Jim suggested.

"Maybe," Winona said with a smile, fixing a glass of Pepsi for each of them.

"What are we making for dinner?" Jim asked. "Chris seems to think I'll burn it if I try to cook by myself."

"You are a fine cook, dear," Winona said.

"When he can focus long enough," Bones said when he entered the kitchen in jeans and a warm sweater.

"You really did it?" Hikaru asked. "You really left the hospital?"

Leonard shrugged at that. "It was cramping my style. Pike said the Consortium will employ me full time. And will match my salary."

"Good for you. I'll bet Chapel was happy," Winona said.

"She blamed Jim. Just as well," Leonard said.

"It has alvays vorked for us," Pavel agreed with an innocent smile.

"So I've noticed. Is Nyota coming for dinner?" Jim asked.

"Yep. She said she should be here by 4:30. Talha and Kheri are coming home on Sunday," Bones mentioned. This prompted them to discuss where they had gone and what they had been doing in Minnesota, Leonard not providing any insight, claiming he didn't know. They weren't sure they believed him but what could they do?

When they had finished the delicious lunch Pavel and Hikaru had made them, Jim excused himself back to his office, taking Hikaru with him to help with the galleys.

"Are you going to call him?" Hikaru asked after an hour of busy silence.

"Who?" Jim said, staring down at the pages.

"The President of the United States. Who do you think I mean?" Hikaru said, shaking his head.

"Nope."

"_Dude_," Hikaru said, endowing it with two extra syllables as only he could do. "You got to know he's as miserable as you are."

"I am _not_ miserable," Jim said firmly.

"Sure. I know you love my chicken pot pie. So why is it you ate two bites and gave the rest of Pasha?"

"Because we don't have a dog?" Jim joked.

"You are… never mind. Be cranky and starve to death. You think Len's not going to notice?"

"There's nothing to notice. I'm fine. If he wants to talk to me, he knows my numbers. All of them. And he has all of my email addresses."

"Len's right. You are the most stubborn person on the face of the Earth," Hikaru said.

"I'm not sure you've had time to talk to every single Earthling," Jim retorted, making Hikaru laugh. "Speaking of email – did you write back to the Avery and Andre fans?"

"Yeah. There were only 92 so it didn't take quite as long as usual."

"And I was gracious and appreciative to each and every one, right?" Jim asked.

"Except creepy ShamFam. What is up with her? Or him?"

"Can't you spam filter those emails?" Jim responded.

"She changes her email address. This time they came from Gmail. Creepy stalking gmails," Hikaru said with a shudder.

"Does she still want to have my babies?" Jim asked.

"She wants you to have hers from what I could make out. I frankly didn't spend any more time on her email than I had to in order to realize it was her."

"Just as well," Jim agreed. "Did you read any more fanfiction?"

"Yeah. Mostly junk. PJPromises posted a new story. I bookmarked it if you want to read it."

"Up to her usual standards?" Jim asked.

"Yeah. Oh and guess what?" Hikaru said in excitement.

"I can hardly imagine."

"There's a new section of RPF," Hikaru said, laughing.

"What? RPF?"

"Real person fiction, dude. Keep up," Hikaru said.

"Real person fiction? They aren't real," Jim said with a tiny frown.

"No. But _you_ are," Hikaru laughed.

"Oh no. No. No. No. Please tell me they haven't…."

"Oh yes they have. You are very creative in bed. And very potent," Hikaru said.

"Potent? I'm not a race horse," Jim said, frowning.

"Tell them. Not me."

"Did you tell Chris about this?" Jim asked in some dismay.

"He told me," Hikaru said, laughing. "He thought it was too funny."

"Funny?" Jim said. "They are making up stuff about my supposed love life and my lawyer thinks it's funny?"

"Yep. Said it's your own fault for being so… well… _you_. If you looked more like, you know, Albert Springer, it wouldn't have happened."

"Then that's Mom's fault. Oh my God," Jim said. "Do I even want to know where to find there stories?"

"They are a subsection of the _Big Adventures _site. I recommend you don't go to that section," Hikaru said with not nearly enough sympathy. "I'm betting there are even more after Oprah."

"Oh good," Jim said in dismay. "I'm going to stop writing and work for Chris full time."

"Not so long back, you were talking about leaving the Consortium," Hikaru reminded him.

"So who are these _in-bed_ adventures with? Do I even want to know?"

"Uhmm… me. Those are the only ones I read."

"You?" Jim laughed. "How do they even know you exist?"

"We're photographed together all the time. Sad for me. And I'm not, repeat _not_, going to Chicago with you."

"Then who is going to carry my luggage?" Jim asked with a pout which Hikaru did not find the least bit amusing. Well, maybe a tiny bit amusing but he sure wasn't going to tell Jim.

"You are. Like you always do. As though you'll take more than your usual tote. Besides, I'll be safely in Tasmania," Hikaru said, smiling over at Pavel when he showed up in the door. "Hey."

"Am I interrupting?" Pavel asked, smiling at Hikaru before looking over at Jim who was studying them both.

"Not at all," Hikaru said. "What are you up to?"

"Leonard and Vinona vant to take a svim. I said to them I vould ask you."

"Jim?" Sulu asked.

"Not right now. You two run along," he said with a smile.

"I could use a break," Sulu agreed, standing up to stretch. "Do you want more Pepsi before we go?"

"No thanks. I'm fine," Jim assured them, returning his focus to the galleys. He barely noticed when the guys left him alone in his office.

"Dinner's ready," Chris's voice said only minutes later.

"What?" Jim said, looking up at him, his neck stiff. Oh. Maybe it hadn't been minutes judging from the cramps in his back. "What time is it?"

"Nearly 6. I've been here for over an hour. How long have you been holed up in here?"

"I have no idea," Jim admitted, standing to stretch the kinks out. "Whenever Hikaru went swimming. Or before that. Right after lunch."

"Do you ever know what time it is?" Chris asked, following him into his bedroom so that Jim could continue on into his bathroom.

"Usually," Jim said through the bathroom door. "I'm two-thirds the way through the galleys and didn't think to stop."

"Well. You're nothing if not dedicated," Chris had to admit as Jim emerged from the bathroom. "Winona made stuffed peppers. Are you going to eat them?"

"You've been talking to the boys, haven't you?" Jim asked in suspicion as he left his bedroom with Chris.

"Maybe. And maybe Len's not the only one who has noticed that you can take off your jeans without unbuttoning them," Chris said.

"Hello beautiful," Jim said to Nyota when he found her in the living room, talking to Winona.

"Hello yourself," she responded with a wink.

"Don't think this conversation is over," Chris warned, going with them into the dining room.

"What conversation?" Jim asked, sitting at the table and accepting the dish with the peppers.

"The conversation about why you aren't eating. And why I'm going to take medical action if you don't start," Bones said, watching Jim.

"I'm eating," Jim protested.

"One forkful of Hikaru's delicious chicken pot pie does not qualify," Winona said as she ate her dinner.

"Can we please talk about something more interesting?" Jim requested, looking at all the concerned faces studying him.

"For now. After dinner we're discussing it again," Leonard warned, watching Jim shove the food around his plate. "Please eat it and not play with it."

Jim frowned at him, taking a tiny bit and chewing it thoroughly. He breathed a tiny sigh of relief when the conversation turned to more general topics and he could observe rather than being observed.

"He didn't know what RPF meant," Hikaru told them, making them laugh at Jim.

"What does it mean, dear?" Winona asked as she and Chris cleared the table. Hikaru explained, Winona laughing. "Oh my. I'm sorry, dear. Have you read them?"

Jim shuddered. "I have no intention of it."

"That's for the best," Chris agreed. "They are quite…interesting."

"Interesting in a not-so-great way," Hikaru said, shaking his head.

"And they write that you and Jim… you know?" Pavel asked.

"Yep. Some of the writers could submit their entries to the Kama Sutra. A few of them need to read it so they know what's anatomically possible," Hikaru laughed.

"You vill be showing me?" Pavel asked Hikaru quietly, pretending the others didn't hear him.

"I will," Hikaru agreed.

"Come on, Jim," Leonard ordered, standing over him with his _you-know-better-than-to-ignore-me _face in full force.

"Come where?" Jim asked with wide innocent eyes.

"Your bedroom. Where I am giving you an IV with vitamins and minerals. In an effort to make sure you don't starve to death."

"I'm not starving. I'm fine," Jim complained.

"Stand up," Chris said, disguising the request as a order.

Jim did it reluctantly, trying to hold onto the waist of his jeans as Chris tugged them down to his knees.

"Unless you are going for urban-chic, your jeans are now at least one size too big. If not two," Chris informed him.

"For the love of God, will you stop obsessing over my weight?" Jim said in exasperation, pulling his jeans back up.

"Go with Leonard, dear," Winona said, a warm hand on his arm. "You barely eat. And it isn't good for you."

"If you don't come with me now, you aren't going to the Ice Floes concert tomorrow," Leonard warned.

"I am not five," Jim protested.

"Then stop acting like it and come with me," Leonard said, his fists on his hips, daring him to continue to refuse.

"You know it's for the best," Nyota added, standing to trace Jim's cheeks. "Where is that apple-faced little boy I know and love?"

"Know and loath?" Jim asked.

Nyota shook her head, hooking her arm through one of Jim's and guiding him to his bedroom. "He's all yours," she said to Leonard, slipping out and closing the door behind her.

"I used to hate you," Jim said, staring at Bones. "That's nothing compared to how I feel right now."

"Shut up and take off your sweater. And your jeans. You'll have to go to sleep when it's done," Bones said, going into Jim's bathroom.

"This is completely unnecessary. And you are abusing your authority as my doctor."

"I most certainly am not. Am I going to have to go get Chris? Because I will."

"Stop threatening me. Stop treating me like I'm a child. Stop badgering me."

"Stop having a tantrum," Bones countered calmly. "_Jim_."

Jim frowned at that tone. Bones generally reserved it for the severely injured or the nearly-dead. He was pretty sure he didn't qualify as either of those but the fact that Bones was breaking out his most soothing doctor voice was not a good sign. Add to that the fact that he sounded distinctly more Southern when he said it meant he was not going to back down. And he really was worried. Not just being stubborn or trying to be the boss of Jim.

Sighing in exasperation, Jim pulled off his sweater and jeans, leaving them on the floor to annoy Bones. He slowly got into his bed, staring up at Bones with anger in his blue eyes.

"I know you're mad at me and it doesn't matter," Bones said, sitting beside him and tying a tourniquet around his left arm. "Make a fist."

"I will if I can hit you with it," Jim said.

Bones shook his head, swabbing the inside of Jim's arm and easing the IV needle into the prominent vein. "All right, darlin'. That's it," he said when Jim gasped at the puncture. "Do you want me to turn on _Star Wars_ for you?"

"I want you to stop being my doctor. I want…." Jim stopped, closing his eyes and his mouth.

"I am sorry," Bones said, running warm fingers through Jim's blonde hair, soothing some of Jim's anger. "Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?"

Jim opened his eyes to look up at his best friend, misery reflected there that was almost never apparent.

"You've had your heart broken before. Why is this time harder?" Bones asked gently.

"I thought this was it," Jim confessed quietly. "I thought… well. You know how when you and I met, we knew we were already friends? Somehow. Somewhere. We'd always been friends and our paths finally crossed so we figured it out."

"Of course," Bones agreed. "That was Spock too?"

"Yeah. He's disappointed in me. That I'm not the person he wants me to be. He expected me to be."

"He didn't say that," Bones said. "He was surprised. He'd just found out his father is the _tersaya_. Fast on the heels of that, he found out someone he'd already fallen in love with was a member of the Consortium. And he had fallen in love. Despite the fact that he's a Vulcan – immune to the trivial Human emotions we struggle with. He was violating everything he'd ever been told it meant to be Vulcan."

"If he was in love, he should have accepted me. I won't change for him. I won't change for anyone."

"I know that."

"And he didn't call. I thought he'd at least call." Jim put his right arm over his eyes, shaking his head. "God. I sound like a first grader. I should send him a note – do you like me? Check yes or no."

"Why didn't you call him? He's got to be feeling the same way."

"_Feeling_ the same. That's rich."

"Jim," Bones said. "Why didn't you call?"

"And say what? 'Hey. This is the paid assassin calling. The one who thought you and I had a future.'"

"I don't think I'd recommend that approach," Bones said, checking the IV in Jim's arm. "This is going to take about 45 minutes. _Star Wars_?"

"Yes," Jim said. "I want to stay mad at you. Make this your fault."

"I know. Do you want me to stay with you?" Bones asked as he opened the armoire that hid Jim's TV, one he rarely watched.

"No. I'll be fine. I'll have Luke and Obi-Wan for company."

"If you're sure. I'll come back in half an hour," Bones said, turning down the bedside lamp.

"Okay," Jim agreed, barely focusing on the familiar movie. As comforting as it was, it didn't negate the fact that he was fairly miserable. Well. Utterly miserable. And really really angry at himself. And Bones. And Chris. And the world at large.

~o0o~

"What are you doing?" Chris asked from the doorway of Jim's office, his silver hair standing up all over his head.

Jim looked up from the surface of his desk, smiling at the sight. "Working on the galleys."

"It's 2 in the morning. Are you still on Tuscany time?" Chris asked, wandering further in.

"No. I had to pee. And I couldn't go back to sleep. So here I am," Jim said.

Chris shook his head, sitting in one of the chairs facing Jim's desk.

"What?" Jim asked.

"You. You are incorrigible."

"Isn't that a breed of dog?" Jim laughed.

"Go to bed. Or come in the kitchen with me for some leftovers."

"Why are you up?" Jim asked, studying Pike over the rim of his glasses.

"I'm hungry," Chris admitted. "I was dreaming about pound cake."

"Pound cake?"

"My mother used to make the best pound cake in the world. With lemon glaze. It was rich and sinful and, as Hikaru might say, _to die for_."

"I don't think he's ever said that," Jim laughed. "I do think he went to the grocery store before we got home. I bet we could make a pound cake."

"Let's go see," Chris said, standing up and going into the kitchen, Jim close behind. He went into the pantry as Jim Googled pound cake recipes on his laptop. "Any luck?"

"So far I've found 67 recipes. What was in your mom's?"

"I don't know," Chris said, sitting at the table next to Jim. "Here. This one."

"All right," Jim agreed. "We have everything we need. The butter may be frozen but we have a microwave."

"Yes we do," Chris agreed, getting the butter out of the freezer.

"Are you awake enough to do this?" Jim asked, watching him move around the kitchen.

"I'm fine." Chris took charge of mixing the ingredients, Jim providing the instructions, including finding the tube pan above the refrigerator. About the time they were ready to put the cake in the oven, Bones wandered into the kitchen.

"What in the name of all that's holy are the two of you doing?" Leonard demanded, looking at the debris scattered all of the kitchen.

"I wanted pound cake," Chris said with a shrug as he began to clean up.

"It's 3:30 in the morning. This couldn't have waited?" Leonard asked sternly.

"When you have a craving, you have to respect it," Chris laughed.

"You don't have to respect it in the middle of the night," Leonard countered, looking down at Jim. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. I had to potty and then couldn't go back to sleep. I was working on the galleys until the Mad Chef decided he needed a homemade pound cake."

"You two should not be allowed together without adult supervision," Leonard said.

"I'm an adult," Chris protested.

"Sure," Leonard responded. "How long does it have to bake?"

"It will be done at 5," Chris said.

"Swell. I'm going back to bed. I'd suggest you do the same but I know you'll simply ignore me."

"I'm going to sleep on the couch," Jim said, looking over at Chris. "Go back to bed. I'll check the cake."

"Don't let it burn," Chris warned, leaving with Leonard to disappear into their bedrooms. Where they weren't going to be alone.

Was that it? Was that one of the reasons Jim was so angry? His bed was empty. Everyone else was sharing theirs. In his house. Well, _their_ house. But still. The house was full of people in love, finding comfort from the warm bodies next to their own. Jim rarely was troubled with envy but right now that's all he could feel. He was hosting half the world and they all had someone in their bed. He'd gone to bed with an IV and an old movie for company. Yeah. It sucked to be him.


	20. Ko'mekhil T'Pau

_There came a time when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom._ ~Anaïs Nin

* * *

Spock sat at the oversized desk in the oversized office his father had determined was the appropriate setting for the chief editor of House Net'no'kwa. And Executive Vice President of all business affairs of Clan Shi'Kahr. In the process of fulfilling his responsibilities, he had met an extraordinary man with amazing blue eyes, a sensual mouth, and a fierce intellect that he had rarely encountered in someone not a Vulcan.

And now he found himself in the unfortunate, extremely un-Vulcan-like position of being in love with someone who embodied all that Vulcans repudiated. How could he love one who took another life on the orders of those who believed themselves the arbiters of who deserved to die? Never mind the fact that his own father was the de facto Vulcan member of the Board of the Consortium. Not that Spock was even certain there was a Board. Since their initial talk, Sarek had not discussed his involvement. He had not refused as much as avoided the topic whenever the opportunity seemed to present itself.

This was an extremely unsatisfactory situation for him to be in and Spock found himself resenting it. His father would not explain. Spock could find no additional information. His mother was not involved and could provide him no further insight.

He resolutely picked up the phone, dialing his father's extension. "Father."

"Yes," Sarek responded.

"I need to discuss the Consortium. Do you have the time?" Spock asked. His question came perilously close to a demand but it was not.

"I do not. However," Sarek continued before Spock simply hung up on him. "T'Pau is in possession of all of the information you may require. She is expecting your call."

"You did not think to tell me?" Spock asked.

"You had not asked. Call your grandmother. She will satisfy your curiosity."

"It is not inappropriate inquisitiveness," Spock said with a hard edge.

"I was not saying that it is inappropriate for you to ask."

"Very well," Spock said, hanging up in a rare display of pique. Was being in love with a Human going to remain this complicated? "Grandmother," he said when T'Pau had taken the phone from her assistant.

"Spock-kam," T'Pau responded. "You are well."

"I am," Spock agreed. "May I come for a visit? I have many questions I wish to pose to you."

"Of course. Come now. We will share lunch. I will provide you the information you seek if I am able."

"Thank you, Ko'mekh-il. I will arrive in 23 minutes."

"I will see you at that time," T'Pau agreed, hanging up.

Exactly 21 minutes later, Spock stood at the door to his grandmother's luxury apartment. It was in one of the oldest, most stately buildings in the city, the one with a waiting list forever long of those who wished to take up residence. T'Pau had lived there since her arrival on Earth, initially living in one of the 10th floor apartments. When the one next to hers came vacant, she purchased it and opened them up so that it was larger and quite grand.

Spock barely had the opportunity to knock on the door before it was opened by T'Pring, T'Pau's assistant. She hadn't had the job particularly long and although she did an admirable job of disguising her trepidation, she clearly was concerned her next action would be the wrong one.

"Spock," T'Pring said in her cool voice, her eyes equally cold.

"T'Pring," Spock responded, sweeping past her to enter his grandmother's apartment.

"T'sai T'Pau is in her study," T'Pring informed Spock, accepting his coat to hang it in the closet. Spock nodded in acknowledgement, going to his grandmother's study, every wall lined with bookshelves, one large window providing natural light to her surprisingly feminine desk, all sensual curves and lines carved in the cherrywood. She was sitting in one of the armchairs facing the door reading from a book.

"Spock-kam," she said in greeting as he entered.

"Ko'mekh-il," Spock said, bowing ever-so-slightly to her before sitting in the chair nearest to her. "You are well."

"I am," she responded, her black eyes studying him with almost unnerving intensity. "You are troubled."

He bent his head, no longer able to meet her scrutiny.

"You know there is nothing you are not welcome to tell me," she assured him, sounding surprisingly warm. She was generally the epitome of controlled Vulcan, revealing none of her thoughts, and with any feelings utterly contained. In this instance, she was sympathetically inviting him to trust her.

"I am not proud of my actions," he said quietly, surprised when she lay a gnarled, aged hand on his own. Not to pry into his thoughts but as a gesture of comfort she had learned from living amongst Humans for nearly a century. Even she was not immune from being influenced by the majority of inhabitants on their adopted planet.

"Speak your mind," she said in encouragement.

"In the course of fulfilling my responsibilities, I became acquainted with Jim Kirk," he said, certain she had this information. But he had to start somewhere and seemed logical to begin at the beginning. "I found him intelligent, illogical, fascinating… and extremely esthetically pleasing in his looks. He and I entered the beginning of a personal relationship which had promise to turn into much more. We both experienced a connection which is rare." He paused, chancing a look at T'Pau's face which remained impassive yet encouraging simultaneously. He took that as her invitation to continue.

"It was only after we had… become better acquainted did I discover that he is a member of the Consortium, an organization which I did not know existed until that time. I find his connection… his assignment as an assassin disturbing. He and I talked, during which he explained more fully his responsibilities with the organization. I left his company and have not spoken with him since that time." He stopped, taking a deep, quiet breath. That was all he had to say. All he was willing to admit. But T'Pau was an extremely smart, intuitive woman. She knew the truth even before he had confessed it to her. He could only hope she did not judge him overly harshly for his actions.

"When one makes the acquaintance of someone with whom one feels a deeper connection, both parties will be effected by this union. Jim Kirk felt the connection as well?"

"He did," Spock agreed.

T'Pau nodded, not surprised. "Sarek said to me that he had erred in not informing you of our clan's connection with the Consortium. I agree that we should have told you."

"Would it have made a difference?" Spock asked, hoping he did not sound as defeated to her ears as he did to his own.

"Learning the truth about Jim Kirk's secret life would not have been as much of a shock. You would have known of the possibility."

He shook his head. He was not addressing his main concern in such a way that T'Pau was understanding him. "He kills people. On the orders of others."

"Yes. There are times when eliminating a problem is the only way to satisfactorily solve it."

"There is always an alternative to taking a life. You taught me that," Spock said, trying to reconcile the lessons she had instilled in him with her seemingly nonchalance concerning assassins as a problem-solving alternative.

"If a snake is killing your chickens, you can relocate the snake. Or you can eliminate it," she said.

"Once you kill the snake, you have no assurances that another will not continue to kill the chickens," Spock countered.

"You can be certain it is a different snake. The one you eliminated is no longer a threat to your flock."

"How can anyone be certain that it is the snake killing the chickens?" Spock asked. There was safety in the language she had chosen and he was relieved to continue talking in code. "Could it not be a fox?"

"You observe the henhouse. You have solid evidence that it is the snake. If there are no fox prints in the soil surrounding the house, it cannot be a fox."

Spock nodded at that. That was logical. Jim only eliminated the snakes which had killed the chickens. Others made certain he had the right snake. "Has there been a time when it was believed they had located the correct snake only to discover they were mistaken?"

"Of course. However, snakes are snakes. If the wrong snake had not been observed killing chickens at any time, it would not have been targeted."

"You seem certain," Spock said, not daring to ask outright how she could know. Her raised eyebrow was the only response he required. Of course she knew. "May I inquire as to your position within the hierarchy?"

"I have no direct authority with the Consortium. My position on the High Council provides me access to the information concerning their actions. Sarek reports to the entire Council. He does not provide information me to that is not provided to the Council."

"Sarek said that the Consortium was originally established for reasons other than their current purpose."

"Their original purpose is no longer needed. Humans and Vulcans coexist harmoniously. Should a conflict arise, the appropriate governmental units adjudicate the discord."

Spock nodded. There had been a few occasions in his lifetime when the United Earth Federation had had to intervene in disputes and arguments before they erupted in full-scale hostilities.

"Do you intend to contact James?" T'Pau asked, studying her grandson closely.

"I do not know what I intend," Spock admitted. "He was away during Christmas after which I spoke with him. While he was gone, he was following orders."

"Indeed," T'Pau agreed. "However, he was not fulfilling his role as assassin. The Prime Minister of Tajikistan requested that James and Dr. McCoy escort him back so that he could be reinstated as head of the government."

"He was responsible for the successful return of Grigory Illich-Svitych to power," Spock said, the idea surprising him more than he expected.

"The citizens demanded his return from exile. Illich-Svitych had been secure in a Consortium safehouse. James and Dr. McCoy went to the safehouse and took Grigory Illich-Svitych and his wife back to Dushanbe. Their assignment lasted longer than expected because the Prime Minister felt more secure with them in the Palace."

"He was serving as a bodyguard."

"In many ways," T'Pau confirmed. "That James speaks Russian assisted Illich-Svitych."

"Yes," Spock said absently, considering Jim's talent with languages which was continually astounding. "Does he speak Vulcan?"

"Not that I am aware."

Spock nodded, taking a deep breath and standing in a need to dispel some of his restless energy.

"When you spoke with him, did you inquire as to what he had been doing during his absence?" T'Pau asked.

"I did not," Spock admitted. Which was a mistake, he could see now. He was so surprised by what he had learned, he had neglected to ask the most obvious questions. He was aware of T'Pau's eyes on him as he stood before one of her laden bookshelves, scanning the titles at random. When he saw the collection of novels by James T. Kirk, he glanced over his shoulder at his grandmother. "You read his works?"

"Indeed. He is an intelligent, insightful, interesting writer."

"As he is a person," Spock agreed quietly, noticing a much thinner volume with Jim's name on the spine. He removed that book to discover it was a collection of poetry. "He writes poetry?"

"It was his master's thesis," T'Pau said.

"May I?"

"Of course," T'Pau said with an elegant wave of her hand.

Spock opened it to a page that looked worn and frequently visited to discover that this section was a collection of Haiku. The first one caught his attention:

_Is my heart a stone?  
__Will you be the one who shows me  
__what love truly is?_

It was simplistic and amateurish but it spoke of who Jim Kirk was. Spock scanned through, reading two near the bottom of the page.

_~o~_

_Language is useful  
__until it stands in the way  
__of understanding._

_~o~_

_Love will pass me by.  
__I deserve to be alone  
__with all my regrets._

_~o~_

Spock had to consider those words and the impression they were making on him. On his heart. On the person Jim Kirk was behind that beguiling smile and those startling blue eyes. He was a keeper of secrets, his own and those of others. Learning these truths made Spock realize he had not judged him accurately.

"He is… more complex than I had believed," Spock admitted.

"When you edited his most recent novel, you did not discern his depths from his words?"

"I did not," Spock said.

"Did you read his previous works?" T'Pau asked.

"Not as thoroughly as I should have," Spock said, wishing it were not so. Maybe if he had paid closer attention, none of this would be as much of a surprise. But he did know with some certainty that there was nothing in any of Jim's works that would have prepared Spock for the fact that he was hired assassin.

"Come and eat," T'Pau said when T'Pring knocked on the door. "We will discuss this further if you wish."

Spock nodded, replacing the thin volume of poetry and following his grandmother into her stately dining room.


	21. You Are THE Jim Kirk?

_Talent is God given. Be humble. Fame is man-given. Be grateful. Conceit is self-given. Be careful. ~ _John Wooden

* * *

"Will you please hurry up?" Jim said again from where he stood in Bones' bedroom. He had been ready for almost an hour and was bouncing on the balls of his feet in impatience.

"Calm the hell down, kid. The concert doesn't start for another 2 hours," Bones reminded him as he tucked his white tee shirt into his jeans.

"I know. But we have to get there early. It's a rule," Jim said. He was already wearing the _de rigueur_ uniform of Chillie Dogs and Chillie Pups - black cords – preferably wide wale, a tight black tee shirt, the Ice Floes jacket with the luminescent iceberg that faintly glowed in the dark arenas.

"It is not a rule. It's part of the madness to which you are dragging me," Bones grumbled.

"You're the one who bought me the tickets," Jim reminded him unnecessarily. "Not a blue shirt. A black one."

"Fine," Bones said, returning the blue denim shirt in exchange for a black one. "Does this conform with your fashion dictates?"

"Finally," Jim said.

Bones shook his head, following Jim into the living room.

"You finally ready?" Hikaru asked with a laugh.

"Not you too," Bones moaned. "I'll pay you to go with him."

"Nope. I did my share of Floes. Got no interest in going ever again," Hikaru told him.

"Some friend you are," Bones said, accepting his coat.

"Don't wait up," Jim said cheerfully as he and Bones went toward the garage entrance.

"I haven't since you were 13," Winona assured him, blowing him a kiss as they disappeared into the cold garage.

"No way," Bones said, shaking his head. "You are _not_ driving. Get in the passenger seat."

Jim did it, bouncing on the seat like a small child. "Let's go."

"I knew I should have sedated you when I had the chance," Bones said, pulling out.

Jim just shrugged, turning his bright blue eyes on his best friend. "Thanks again. Seriously."

"You're welcome," Bones said begrudgingly. But Jim knew he wasn't nearly as opposed to attending the concert as he pretended.

"Can we listen to the CD?"

"Sure," Bones agreed, waving a hand at the dashboard. "Just keep it below window-shattering."

"You got it," Jim agreed, turning on the CD, the volume at a surprisingly adult level. "I got an email from Spock."

"What?" Bones said, looking over at Jim. "When?"

"Right before I got in the shower. I haven't read it yet."

"Why not?" Bones asked.

"If it's bad news, I didn't want to ruin the concert. If it's not-so-bad news, I didn't want to risk being late," Jim said with a shrug.

"That makes sense," Bones had to agree. "I wonder what brought this on?"

"No idea. I may read it when we get home. I may not. I may delete it without reading it."

"Why?" Bones asked quietly.

"Because he made his opinion completely clear. I don't believe he changed his mind. And even if he did, I'm not sure I'm willing to risk letting him back in," Jim admitted.

"I'm sorry," Bones said because he couldn't think of a single thing to say that would be helpful.

"Yeah. His loss, right?" Jim asked with a grin.

"Maybe he'll go out with you if you promise not to drag him to any Ice Floes concerts," Bones suggested, making Jim laugh at him.

"Maybe."

They spent the rest of the trip to the arena discussing absolutely nothing of importance, pulling into the VIP parking that was always available to them. Something about their contributions in helping to pay to finish the buildings. Finally.

They easily passed through the minimal security, the arena ushers taking them to the floor seats that Bones had purchased for this concert.

"Were they really expensive?" Jim asked when they were stationed at their seats on the third row.

"They would have been," Bones said. "But when Chris called Steve, they were suddenly available at a substantial discount."

"I told you making that donation would be ultimately helpful," Jim reminded him with a smile.

"I never thought I'd use it for Ice Floes tickets."

"Oh you most certainly did. And it gets you free tickets to the Opera. Which I believe is the _only_ reason Nyota is dating you. That and it gives her a chance to be near me," Jim said.

"Sure. You keep believing that. Gives me more documentation for when I finally decide to have you committed," Leonard said, looking into the aisle as one of the Floes roadies passed, slowed down, and backed up.

"I'm sorry," the man said. He was a prototypical roadie – burly, longish hair, beard. They were sure there were a plethora of tattoos under his black Floes shirt.

"For what?" Jim asked cheerfully. "You're fine."

"Oh. Yeah," the man said. "I… has anyone ever told you that you look just like the writer Jim Kirk?"

Jim laughed at that. "Could be because I am."

"No way," the roadie said in disbelief.

"Total way," Jim assured him. The roadie shook his head, focusing on Leonard.

"You aren't Hikaru."

"Leonard McCoy," Bones said, certain the roadie didn't care.

"You aren't really Jim Kirk," the roadie said, not in challenge but in lingering disbelief.

"Oh dear. Don't tell my mom, okay?" Jim laughed. "She'll be really disappointed."

"Do you know Chillie is a huge fan of yours?" the roadie said. "Reads all your books when we're on tour."

"I didn't know. I'm a huge fan of his," Jim said.

"I think he knew that. Since he's mentioned in the books."

"Yeah. My lawyer called his lawyer. He's cool with it?" Jim said.

"Oh totally. He's not cool when he's left out," the roadie said with a lopsided smile. "Listen. We have some time before the concert. Come back stage."

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Jim said, shaking his head.

"Why ever not?" Leonard asked. "There's plenty of time."

"If you don't, Chillie is goin' blame me. When he finds out you're here and didn't come meet him."

Jim looked from the roadie to Leonard and back. "You sure it's okay?"

"Lord yes. Come on," the roadie said, leading them toward the stage and behind it. There were several large men standing around looking vaguely threatening but none of them spoke to the three of them. "Name's Morgan. I'm responsible for all the rigging. And for making sure the instruments are where they're supposed to be."

"Good to meet you, Morgan," Jim said, following him through the labyrinth of the underground complex.

"You know how to get us out of here, right?" Leonard joked.

"Maybe. I usually drop bread crumbs," Morgan said, stopping in front of a battered door that said 'Danger – Electrical Conduits.' He knocked and waited until they heard a faint "yeah" before he opened the door. "Yo, Chillie."

"Yeah?" the man who was unmistakably Chillie Waters responded. He was sitting on a leather couch, a girl of five or six sitting next to him, an attractive woman standing beside him with a sleeping little boy snug against her body. "What's up?" Chillie looked younger and more attractive in person. Without the harsh glare of the floodlights, his face showed a youthful vigor which was what made him capable of giving his all – and more – in each concert. His long black hair was caught neatly in a ponytail, one understated diamond in his ear. He was a bear of a man, one who looked more like a football player than a rock icon. But he had some moves on him and their concerts were always energetic and spectacular.

"I bring you Jim Kirk," Morgan was delighted to announce. He stepped aside, letting Jim and Leonard further in the room.

"No way," Chillie said, standing and automatically picking up the girl who could only be his daughter. "_The_ Jim Kirk?"

"The one and only, as far as I know," Jim said. Leonard was surprised to realize that Jim was nervous, something that he couldn't remember witnessing before.

"You're Jim Kirk?" the beautiful woman asked, an even more beautiful smile lighting up her face.

"I am. That's what my driver's license says anyway," Jim agreed. "You must be Sherry."

"That's me," Mrs. Chillie Waters said. "This is Bucky who is out for the count. And Lilly."

"Hello, Lilly," Jim said with a smile.

"This is such a surprise. That you're here," Chillie said in genuine delight. "I guess I didn't think you were a fan. You just picked the Ice Floes at random."

"Nope," Jim said with a smile. "I've been a fan since your Stoned Tiger days."

"You're from here?" Chillie asked with a laugh.

"Now I am. Not originally. But I got here about the same time you did."

"If he hadn't been a successful writer, he'd have been a Chillie Dog," Leonard said.

"You must be Dr. McCoy," Sherry said. "I've read about you in _People._"

"I am. And as long as you know none of what they write about us is true, we'll get along just fine," Leonard said, making the others laugh.

"Sit, sit," Chillie said, resuming his seat of the couch, his daughter in his lap.

"You are dating that beautiful Nyota Uhura," Sherry said with a wink.

"I am. Was that in _People_ too?" he asked, enjoying her laugh.

"_Cosmopolitan_. When she was on the cover. Was that photo of her retouched?"

"Sherry. That's not very nice," Chillie said with a laugh.

His wife shrugged, smiling back at him. "She is just lovely."

"Inside and out," Leonard confirmed, looking over at Jim who seemed completely awestruck. Which Bones thought was secretly hysterical. "Do you usually have your children on tour?"

"Not usually," Chillie said, kissing Lilly's head. "But since our house is only an hour from here, Sherry brought them. They'll need to go home soon."

"Not yet, daddy," Lilly requested, looking up at him with huge green eyes.

"Not just yet, princess. Before the concert starts."

"Right," Lilly said with a nod.

"You live that close?" Leonard asked. "We live 45 minutes out. Off of Yorkshire Road."

"That's a beautiful area," Sherry said. "We looked there. But I didn't want to be so close to the ocean while the kids are little. We may look again when they are older."

"It's wonderful out there," Leonard said. "Quiet. Not too far from town. Y'all should come over for dinner when you're around." He could feel Jim start at the casual invitation and it was all that Leonard could do not to laugh at him.

"Are you serious? Or are you just being polite?" Chillie asked.

"Completely serious," Bones assured him. "For reasons that remain a mystery to me, our house has something of a clubhouse atmosphere to it. We're never quite sure who will be at dinner. Or lunch."

"That would be lovely," Sherry said with a smile.

"I'm leaving on Tuesday," Chillie said in regret.

"Would you and the children like to come?" Leonard invited. "Any day next week would be fine."

"I would like that, Leonard. Thank you," Sherry agreed. "Would Wednesday be all right?"

"Perfect," Bones agreed. "What would you like to eat?" he asked Lilly who laughed at his question.

"Cheeseburgers," she said in delight.

"Her default," Chillie said. "You sure you don't mind?"

"Of course not. Cheeseburgers it is."

"You're going to Tucson from here?" Jim finally asked, breaking his silence.

"Tucson. Then Vegas for a week. Then Chicago."

"I have tickets to the Chicago show," Jim said.

"Because you'll be on Oprah," Sherry said with a sympathetic smile.

"Since it's the release date," Jim agreed. "I tried to get out of it but… well. You can imagine."

"Only too well," Chillie agreed. "It's still on schedule to be released on February 12?"

"It is," Jim agreed. "I receive a dozen advanced copies. I'll send you one of you'd like."

"Are you sure?" Chillie asked in excitement. "I already pre-ordered it but if I can get it early, that would totally rock."

"Of course. I can email you when I know what day I'll have them. Then I can send you one."

"Absolutely," Chillie agreed, accepting a pen and a pad of post-its from the depths of Sherry's purse. He wrote down his email address, handing it to Jim.

"Here's mine," Jim said. "You can be pretty sure I'll answer and not Hikaru."

"Same with mine. Sherry or Todd sometimes respond but if it's you, they'll leave it for me. We should hang out while we're in Chicago. I mean. If you have time," Chillie said.

"That would be awesome," Jim said. "When are you getting there? As long as I'm at the studio by 8 a.m., I have nothing but time."

"Friday. We could hang out on Saturday. Go to a Blackhawks game."

"Absolutely," Jim agreed. "Too bad football's done."

"Yeah," Chillie said with a shrug. He looked over at the door when a stern faced man entered. "Todd."

"You need to get ready," Todd said. "Hello."

"Sure. Sure," Chillie said. "Todd. This is Jim Kirk. And Leonard McCoy."

"Jim Kirk? The writer Jim Kirk?" Todd asked, looking far less serious.

"I'm pretty sure that's me," Jim laughed.

"Good to meet you," Todd said, extending his hand. "Big fan of yours. I expected you to be a lot older."

"I am some days," Jim responded with a laugh.

"Child prodigy," Bones joked. "We'll get going. And I'll email you directions to our house. 5:30 okay for dinner?"

"Perfect," Sherry agreed, walking with them to the door. "Thanks so much."

"Lovely to meet you," Jim said. With a final farewell, they left, following Morgan back out of the bowels of the building and to their seats.

"I have never known you to be nervous around anybody," Bones said as soon as Morgan left them.

Jim shrugged, looking around the arena. "He's Chillie Waters."

"And you're Jim Kirk. You are so star struck you can't stand yourself."

"Shut up," Jim said with no malice in the words. They accepted two huge cups of beer when one of the area employees brought them up, compliments of the band.

"Are you going to be able to talk to him when you're in Chicago? Or are you going to droll all over your arm and him?" Bones laughed.

"Shut up," Jim repeated. "You're still coming to Chicago. You did promise."

"I did. But I hate hockey. You can go on your date with your man-crush right by yourself."

"It's not a date, you moron. He's married."

"I'm not a moron. And I'm not all giddy because I met him," Bones teased.

"Don't speak to me again. For the rest of your life," Jim demanded, accepting the two bags of peanuts from the same arena employee. "Do you think we'll eventually get pizza?"

"Maybe," Bones laughed. "I thought you weren't speaking to me."

"I'm not. I shouldn't have given you those peanuts."

"Maybe they're for me. Maybe Sherry sent them because she feels sorry for me," Bones said.

"Could be. It was nice of you to invite her for dinner. Don't you imagine it must be kind of lonely?"

"I would think so. That's why I did it," Bones said.

"You are a good person. To everyone but me," Jim said, laughing when Leonard did.

~o0o~

"How was the concert?" Chris asked when they entered the house. It was dark except for a light next to Chris' chair and one in the kitchen.

"Awesome. It rocked the most," Jim said in excitement, careful to keep his voice low.

"Jim met Chillie Waters. I think they may be engaged," Bones said. "Of course. That means he'll have to break it off with the guard in Tajikistan."

"_Met him_ met him?" Chris asked, looking up at them.

"Yeah. One of his roadies recognized me and took us to meet him. He's really nice," Jim said.

"Jim has a man-crush," Bones said in a dramatic stage whisper.

"I do not. Stop saying that," Jim protested. But he didn't convince himself much less either of the other two.

"Chillie does too," Leonard said. "He asked Jim if he'd have time to hang-out in Chicago. I'm pretty sure he was afraid Jim would say no."

"He was not," Jim said. But Bones just ignored him.

"They're going to a hockey game together," Bones said, making Chris laugh.

"Oh great. Jim will probably end up having three teeth knocked out by a stray puck."

"Wouldn't be surprised," Leonard said. "His wife and children were backstage so I invited them to dinner on Wednesday."

"That should be fun," Chris laughed. "They live 35 minutes from here."

"You knew that?" Jim asked in surprise.

"_Jim_," Chris said, shaking his head.

"Oh. Yeah. I guess you did. Do. What are you doing up?"

"No particular reason. Winona only went to bed half an hour ago. We were watching _Casablanca_. I was getting ready to go to bed when I heard the car drive in. Wanted to make sure you weren't bringing home any strays."

"Isn't this our house? Which would make it okay for us to bring home strays?" Jim said, his voice huskier than normal from singing along at the top of his voice throughout the concert.

"He does have a point," Leonard said with a yawn.

"I suppose so. But I wasn't planning to grill enough steaks for anyone else tomorrow."

"Are the boys still here?" Jim asked.

"Of course. Rent them the room. Permanently. It's just easier all around."

"Yeah," Jim agreed with a deep laugh.

"Does your throat hurt?" Bones asked, studying him.

"No more than usual after a concert. Don't fuss. I'm fine," Jim said, swatting away Bones' hands when they reached up to feel his neck.

"All right. But if you can't talk tomorrow, I'm not lifting one finger to help you," Bones warned.

"Finally," Jim said.

"Are you going to check your email? Or go to bed?" Leonard asked, hanging up their jackets in the closet.

"Why your sudden interest in his email?" Chris asked in suspicion.

"I got an email from Spock right before we left. I didn't read it yet," Jim said with a shrug.

"That's understandable," Chris said.

"I guess I should," Jim said.

"It'll still be there in the morning," Leonard reminded him. "It's late. Let's go to bed."

"Yeah. You're right," Jim agreed. "Thanks again. You totally rock the most."

"I do know that," Bones agreed with a laugh, easily dodging Jim's hand that tried to smack him. "Go to bed."

"You too," Jim said. "Chris?"

"Now that all the strays that _belong_ here are back, I will," Chris said, following them down the hallway as they each disappeared into their respective bedrooms.

* * *

_A/N: I hope everyone had a very safe and Happy Christmas! If you have the time and inclination, I'd love to hear about your Christmas. (And possibly what you thought of this chapter... hint hint...) _


	22. Paralysis Through Analysis

_Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured. ~_Mark Twain

* * *

Spock sat in his home office, using the time most people would be sleeping to get some work done. There was much that demanded his attention and for the past month his focus had been mainly elsewhere. He tried not to berate himself over his wandering mind although it had gotten him behind in some of the work his father expected from him.

When he went to check some figures in an email sent by the CFO, he could not fail to notice that the tiny green light next to James Kirk's name was illuminated. Jim was on his computer. At 3:45 in the morning.

Spock theorized that Jim had not read the email he had sent as no response had yet been received. Did he want to take advantage of the instant chat feature embedded in their common email program?

Rather than consider it further – what was it Jim had said at some point _paralysis through analysis?_ – Spock clicked on Jim's name.

_Jim._

Spock waited, watching the response box and willing the program to indicate that the recipient was composing a reply.

After a nearly interminable delay, one came:

_Hey._

_Are you unable to sleep?_ Spock typed. Not remotely close to what he really wanted to say but easing into the conversation seemed appropriate.

Again, he had to wait until a reply was even composed.

_Are you?_

Well. This was not going especially well, Spock acknowledged to himself. Perhaps he should simply give up and go back to the work awaiting his attention.

_I was working when I noted your on-line presence._

_What is it you want? _Jim sent.

That was direct at least. Spock considered the question. Not just the immediate answer to it. The long term _from now until forever_ part.

_To talk with you. Preferably in person._

_Is that a good idea? _Jim returned.

_I was overly hasty in my evaluation of your… connection to the Consortium._

There was a pause in the activity box, Spock wondering if Jim had left the program. But his indicator light remained illuminated.

_I am still who I am_ Jim finally responded.

_I acknowledge that. I have acquired new information that has put your involvement in a different light._

_Who were you talking to?_ Jim asked. Spock could practically see the anger in those pixels.

_Is that important? I have a deeper understanding of all that it means._

_It's important that what you learned is true. Since you seemed disinclined to discuss it with me._

_That was an error on my part_. Spock did not think that it was error to not discuss it. It was an error not to ask the questions of Jim rather than his grandmother. _May we please meet in person and have this conversation?_

This request was met with an even longer delay. Spock unconsciously checked the green light several times, needing the reassurance that Jim was in fact still there. Electronically at the very least.

_When?_ came the response. Finally.

_Are you free tomorrow for lunch?_

_Tomorrow as in Monday? Or tomorrow as in later today?_

_Either one would be fine with me,_ Spock responded. Because if he could see Jim, he would do it whenever Jim was available.

_I have time today. Where should I meet you?_

_Would you come to my apartment?_

_No_ Jim responded, not surprisingly.

_Park Avenue Grille?_

_What time?_

_Noon if that is convenient to you, _Spock replied.

_Noon. _With that, the light next to Jim's name went out. At least he had agreed to lunch. That was something of a victory, Spock decided.

~o0o~

Spock arrived at the restaurant at 11:55 precisely, informing the hostess that he had a reservation and that his guest would be arriving shortly. She escorted him to the table with the discreet 'reserved' sign, assuring him that Mr. Kirk would be shown the table the moment he arrived.

At precisely noon, Jim appeared, staring at Spock, anger simmering in his eyes and in his entire body. He was holding himself unnaturally tightly beneath the dark green sweater and jeans that were his customary attire.

"Jim," Spock said, looking up at him.

"Hey," Jim responded. He sounded normal even if his voice had a new huskiness to it, one Spock wanted to pretend did not add to his already considerable appeal.

"Please join me," Spock requested.

Jim nodded, sliding into the booth opposite from Spock and picking up the menu at his place.

"Why are you angry?" Spock asked quietly, studying Jim openly.

"I don't want to be," Jim admitted. "But I am."

"Why?"

"Because you are judging me. And that makes me judge myself. Sometimes you don't want to consider who you are and what you do as a result. It's simpler to just _be."_

"Yes," Spock had to agree. "It was never my intention to make you self-conscious."

"I know that," Jim said with a sigh. "This was a bad idea."

"It was not," Spock said in a low voice. "We can talk civilly. Discuss that which disrupted our relationship. We are adults capable of mature discourse."

"Leonard would argue with you on that," Jim said coughing softly.

"Are you ill?" Spock asked.

"No. We went to the Ice Floes concert last night. I always sing too loud and too much. And I'm hoarse the next day."

"I see," Spock said. "The concert was enjoyable?"

"Always," Jim said, looking up at the waitress when she stopped by their table.

"Gentlemen," she said, an appreciative gaze lingering on Jim. "What may I get you to drink?"

"I'll have Pepsi," Jim requested.

"Of course. And for you, sir?"

"A glass of water. No ice and no lemon."

"Certainly," she acknowledged before sashaying away.

"Do you know what you are having to eat?" Spock asked as Jim continued to study the heavy menu.

"I can't decide," Jim admitted. "Although the roast pork with apple glaze sounds really good. What are you getting?"

"Pasta primavera with vodka sauce," Spock decided.

"That sounds good too," Jim said.

"They will include chicken if you request it," Spock said, waiting as the waitress set down their drinks.

"Have you decided?" she asked.

"We have," Spock responded, nodding to Jim to begin.

"I'll have the pasta primavera. With blackened chicken, please."

"Of course. And your salad?"

"Caesar," Jim decided.

She inquired from Spock who placed his order. Once she had walked away, Spock turned his attention on Jim. His initial anger had been replaced by nervousness.

"I had a lengthy conversation with my grandmother," Spock said, Jim nodding. "She provided much insight."

"Which you could have gotten from me," Jim said evenly.

"Yes," Spock said. "I regret my inability to talk with you more directly. And more civilly."

Jim shrugged but did not respond otherwise.

"While you were away, you were assisting in the installation of the Prime Minister of Tajikistan?"

"I was," Jim agreed when Spock paused. Because something needed to go into the silence.

"My grandmother additionally told me that I erred in my judgment of you as simply an assassin."

"I'm not sure it's the _simply _part that you have a problem dealing with," Jim suggested.

"True," Spock conceded, studying Jim who looked back with guarded eyes. "While I cannot say I can approve of your actions…."

"I'm not looking for your approval. I'm not sure I'm looking for anything from you," Jim said, his anger as crystal clear as the blue of his eyes.

"Jim," Spock requested. "I regret your anger. I regret I did not handle the information you gave to me in an appropriate manner. Since that time, I have learned additional facts which has put it all into a new perspective."

"And?" Jim challenged.

"You are not willing to truly listen," Spock said in quiet regret.

"What are you planning to tell me? That you abhor violence but can accept _me_? That my actions are reprehensible but you're willing to overlook them?"

"That is not precisely how I would phrase it," Spock said.

"No matter how you might _phrase_ it, it doesn't alter the truth of who I am."

Spock considered those words, looking at them from what he thought might be Jim's perspective. He could see that Jim's anger was justified. He had made his opinion clear. Why would Jim think his core beliefs had changed?

"I knew this was a mistake," Jim said, sliding out of the booth and carefully putting his napkin on the seat. He reached into his pocket and took out two crumpled 20 bills which he placed on the table. "You shouldn't have to pay for food I won't be eating."

Spock nodded, his silence his only answer as he watched Jim walk away. Regret was not a meal he wanted to eat but it was the only one left on his personal menu.

~o0o~

"Oh no," Bones said as Jim entered the house.

"Yeah," Jim sighed, flopping down on the couch. "I _knew_ I shouldn't have gone. Why didn't I listen to myself?"

"I'm sorry, kid. Chris is grilling steaks. Please try to eat some."

Jim flung his arm over his eyes. "Are you ever sorry? That we're part of the Consortium?"

"You know I am. But I'll never leave until you do. If ever."

"Where's Mom?" Jim asked because the house was unnaturally quiet.

"She went to have lunch with Tahla."

"Chris didn't go?" Jim asked.

"No. He said he was meeting with her tomorrow. And Tahla and Winona need the time to themselves. So they can gossip."

"About us no doubt."

"Without a doubt," Bones said. "Tell me what happened."

"I'm at fault. I wouldn't listen. He tried explaining. He talked to T'Pau. She told him he was overly hasty. Something I could have told him if he'd listened."

"But you are too angry right now to listen to him," Bones acknowledged.

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "I thought I would be able to discuss it with him. But once I got there, all I could see was the horrified expression on his face when we first told him. No matter how much time has elapsed, _all_ I see is his horror."

"Do you think he's incapable of a change of heart?" Bones asked gently.

"I know. I know," Jim sighed. "I'm a horrible person who deserves to die alone. Alone and despised by ordinary people."

"True. All true," Bones agreed, making Jim snort at him. Leonard looked over at the entry to the patio when Chris and Scotty entered, Chris carrying a platter piled high with delicious smelling steaks. "Come on, lonely man. Let's eat."

"Yeah," Jim sighed.

"I dinna think we'd be seein' you until much later, laddie," Scotty said as they sat at the table.

Jim shrugged, looking into the living room. "Where are the boys?"

"I locked them in the pantry," Chris said.

"Seriously. Where are they?" Jim asked.

"You don't need details," Bones said. "They'll be along shortly. They were doing the dishes and got distracted."

"Oh my Lord. At least someone in this house is in a happy relationship," Jim said.

"So it didn't go particularly well," Chris said, giving Jim a thick steak.

"Have you been taking lessons from Bones on understatements?" Jim asked, accepting the plate of sweet potatoes to take one.

"I am the master. He is but the learner," Chris said.

"For the love of all that is holy, stop letting him make you watch _Star Wars_," Leonard pleaded with a frown at Jim.

Chris and Scotty laughed at that, all eyes on Chekov and Sulu when they silently crossed the living room to slip into the dining room.

"How'd it go?" Hikaru asked in an attempt to focus attention elsewhere.

Jim shook his head not otherwise commenting. That was all they needed to know and they changed the subject. Leonard talked about the concert including the invitation he had extended to Sherry Waters and the children.

"Y'all'll be here, right?" Leonard asked Chekov and Sulu.

"Vhere else vould ve be?" Pavel asked.

"True," Leonard agreed. "Jim. Please."

All eyes focused on Jim and the plate which held his untouched food. Rather than answer, Jim stood up and left the table. It was only moments later that they heard the door to his office close with more force than strictly necessary. Leonard and Chris exchanged looks, Leonard shaking his head.

"Are you goin' then?" Scotty finally asked Leonard and Chris.

Leonard sighed, standing slowly. He went to the office, knocking and entering without waiting for a response. "I know you're angry at me and I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad at you," Jim said from where he knelt in front of his fireplace, placing the logs in precise order.

"I have a hard time believing that," Leonard said gently, sitting on the couch watching him.

"I'm mad at myself. I'm mad at Spock. I'm mad at Pavel and Hikaru for having what..…"

"I know," Leonard said. "What do you want to do?"

Jim shrugged, striking the match to watch the fire leap to life. "I want my life to be simpler. There was a time it wasn't so complicated, right?"

"Yeah. I'm sure there was. I don't quite remember it but that doesn't mean it didn't exist."

"Why am I suddenly reduced to a teen-age girl? One you're sure is suffering from anorexia. I know I need to eat. But I can't. Not yet."

"Is there anything you would eat? Waffles? French fries? I'll go to McDonalds for you."

Jim smiled sadly and shook his head. "Thanks. No. Go tell the boys I'm okay, please. I don't want to worry them."

"What are you going to do?"

"Write. Purge my soul on my computer."

"All right," Leonard said, standing up. "You know where to find me if you need anything."

"I do. Tell them I'm sorry."

"I won't need to. They understand," Leonard assured him, reluctantly leaving Jim's office to return to the overly quiet dining room. "He's okay. He asked me to tell you he's sorry."

They agreed it was, indeed, unnecessary, that they did understand. After a few awkward minutes, the conversation resumed its lively nature, even if it was somewhat subdued.

* * *

_A/N: Special thanks to Romanse who (more-or-less) volunteered to proof this story. Because as she said - a writer never sees her own typos. Thanks! _


	23. It's Only Rock 'n Roll

_No change in musical style will survive unless it is accompanied by a change in clothing style. Rock is to dress up to._ ~Frank Zappa

* * *

"Are you sure this is the right room?" Jim asked Bones as they stood outside the door of one of the largest suites in the Stewart Towers. Their room was a floor below, not quite as grand but the queen of daytime put her guests up in luxury. Leonard had tried to talk Jim out of paying the difference to upgrade to a slightly larger suite so they had two bedrooms but there was no stopping him. Not that Leonard was especially surprised by his stubbornness.

"Yes it's the right room," Bones groused. "See," he said, holding up his cell phone, showing Jim the text he had gotten ten minutes earlier.

"Okay," Jim agreed, waiting as Bones knocked on the door. Jim was bouncing on his toes, Bones shaking his head in affectionate amusement.

"Would you calm the hell down? You aren't marrying him."

"Shut up," Jim said, waiting as the door was opened by Todd.

"Jim. Leonard. Come in," Todd said with a smile, moving out of the way so they could enter the suite. It was practically overflowing, members of the band on the chairs, couch, one on floor in front of the fire.

"Jim," Chillie said, standing as they entered further. "Leonard. Lilly can't stopped talking about you. You're going to have to marry her."

"My pleasure. I look forward to it," Bones laughed.

"Sherry can't believe it's turned into every Wednesday night," Chillie said. "You're sure they won't wear out their welcome?"

"They couldn't possibly," Leonard assured him. "Beside, Hikaru and Pavel would be devastated. They finally have playmates."

Chillie had to laugh at that, shaking his head. "Glad to know the kids are coming in handy. And I should have known y'all know ALS."

"Bucky is really good at it for being so young," Leonard said.

"He sends me at least one email every day talking about being at your house. Especially about the two of you. And Miss Nyota. He's completely in love," Chillie laughed.

"We all are," Jim agreed with a smile.

"Let me introduce you to the guys," Chillie said, waving at those gathered. "This is Larry Garrison our bassist, Darryl Clark our drummer, Darryl Young keyboards, and Yvonne Butler percussions and vocals."

Each member of the band shook hands with Jim and Leonard as Chillie named them. Jim already knew who they each were and their roles with the band. He also knew that Yvonne was married to Darryl Clark and that they had been together for at least 15 years. They had four children, who sometimes stayed with Sherry and sometimes with Yvonne's parents.

It was rumored that Larry Garrison and Darryl Young were in a long-term relationship but they never stated publicly whether or not it was true. Too many of their fans were completely enamored of them both so they kept any relationship they may or may not have as low-key as possible.

The band was delighted to meet Jim, and by extension, Leonard. Leonard took their milder interest in him in stride, watching Jim enjoy meeting some of his real-life heroes, people who felt for him what he felt for them. It all seemed so _normal_ to Leonard and that was saying something about what constituted 'normal' in their lives.

"So I have Blackhawk tickets for tomorrow," Chillie told Jim before turning to Leonard. "Do you want to go?"

"Thank you, no," Leonard said politely. "I've never been a fan of hockey."

"Me neither," Yvonne agreed, smiling broadly at Leonard. "My Darryl loves it. Larry does too but not Darryl Y. We're going to The Art Institute tomorrow. Do you want to come with us?"

"I would never intrude," Leonard said.

"What intrusion?" Yvonne laughed. "Let the uncultured masses go watch overgrown adolescents whale away on each other. We're going to see the Chagall window exhibit."

"I would like that," Leonard agreed. "As long as you are sure."

"Of course we are," Darryl Y assured him. The two Darryls were polar opposites, reminding Leonard of how Pavel and Hikaru fit together for all their contrasts

Darryl Y was wearing a ragged Chicago Bulls sweatshirt that looked like it had seen better centuries not just days. His jeans though clean were equally ratty, holes everywhere. And not the designer _aren't-I-chic-with-my-ragged-jeans_ holes. They were worn out. His hair and eyes were black, and there was a faint Asian air about him, standing a head shorter than Leonard. His eyes weren't entirely almond shaped like Sulu's but Leonard suspected that at least one grandparent was of Asian descent. He was in excellent physical condition, a runner from the lines of his body.

On the other hand, Darryl C sported a blonde crew cut, and looked like he could be a banker. He was wearing a button down shirt with his neatly pressed jeans. He was taller than Leonard, and lean with not an ounce of extra weight on him. He was clearly fit even though he lacked the subdued athleticism of the first Darryl. Being a drummer was probably the best exercise Darryl C could engage in.

Larry was in between with his unruly brown hair, his green eyes, and his expression of near dismay at all that went on around them. He wore jeans that were pressed but not pristine, some fraying around the places that always wore out first. He had on a black sweater that looked comfortable and practical with no pretense about it. It kept him warm. That was the reason he chose it. He was not fat nor was he thin. He was what Leonard's mama might have called pleasantly plump.

"We're about to order room service," Chillie was saying. "Can you hang here with us?"

Jim looked at Leonard in question. And there was no way that Bones could disappoint him. "Fine by me," Bones agreed.

Jim nodded. "That'd be great."

"Cool. What do you want?" Chillie asked, handing Jim the menu.

"I'll have the cheeseburger and fries," Jim said, knowing that Bones wouldn't say anything in front of the band. Plus if Jim ate, Bones would be happy if it were cardboard.

"I'll have the same," Bones decided.

"Right. Todd?" Chillie asked, Todd already going over to the phone. "You ready for your appearance with the Queen of Daytime?"

Jim rolled his eyes at that question, the others laughing.

"You seem thrilled," Darryl Y laughed.

"Oh yeah. Beyond belief," Jim responded.

"What are you wearing?" Yvonne asked, shushing the men when they groaned. "Stop. It's important."

"Jeans. A button down. A navy blazer," Jim said.

"No tie," Yvonne said.

"No," Jim agreed.

"Blue button down?"

"Yeah. I have a white one too. But that makes me feel like I'm going on a job interview," Jim said.

"You need the blue one," Yvonne said. "It'll bring out the blue in your eyes."

"I'm thinking he doesn't need any help on that front," Larry suggested.

"Stop making him self-conscious," Yvonne scolded.

"You're doing that, darlin'. Quizzing him like you're his mama," Larry countered.

"I most certainly am not," she said.

Jim laughed and shook his head. Yvonne could in no way be his mother, as she was only a handful of years older than him. And she had startling red hair, a color he suspected didn't exist in nature. But it had always been that color. She wore it in a French braid, tied with a blue ribbon that matched the sky blue cashmere sweater she was wearing.

She had always made an effort not to be perceived as any sort of sex-symbol but she was a rock queen. It was undeniably her fate. Jim thought she deserved the title, with her beautiful jade eyes and her long long legs. Only Nyota had longer legs though Yvonne was several inches taller, even in the flat shoes she always wore. She had declared early on that being in a rock band was hard enough. She was not risking the rest of her life by wearing ridiculously high heels, and the female fans loved her even more for it.

"This latest book is your best," Chillie told Jim, the band agreeing with that assessment.

"You've all read it?" Jim laughed.

"Yeah. They wouldn't quit bugging me until I finished. They read it as fast as they could too. Next time you'll need to send three copies," Chillie said.

"Sure," Jim agreed. "That won't be enough though."

"Larry's illiterate," Yvonne told him in a dramatic whisper.

"I'm literate enough to read you the riot act," Larry countered.

Yvonne just ignored him, turning to talk to Leonard. "Yeah our kids are jealous. But six children at one time is a lot."

"Well. If Chris, Hikaru, Pavel, Scotty, _and_ Nyota are all there, we'll out number them," Leonard laughed.

"Barely," Yvonne's Daryl said with a smile.

"We're willing to risk it, aren't we?" Leonard asked Jim.

"Absolutely. They can have the sleep-over if they want. There's plenty of room in the living room. We can lock and alarm the pool so they can't get in without a lot of trouble and without us knowing."

"They would love it," Darryl said to Yvonne who still looked uncertain.

"It's a lot to take on," Yvonne said.

"Sherry will be there," Chillie pointed out. "They listen to her. Mostly."

"True," Yvonne laughed. "All right. As long as you aren't worried about it. I'll tell Mom it's okay."

"Good. We'll probably want to wait until next Wednesday. So we can prepare the guys," Jim laughed.

"Of course," Yvonne agreed. "We won't tell them until closer to time. Or they'll be bugging us non-stop."

"_Our_ perfect angel children?" Darryl laughed.

"MY perfect angel children. I'm not sure you had anything to do with it," Yvonne said with obvious affection.

"Takes two to tango, darling," Darryl reminded her.

"So true," Yvonne said, leaning against him as he wrapped one arm tighter around her shoulders.

"Since you were good enough to send us a copy of your book," Chillie said, hoisting himself out of the armchair. "We got you two a little something." He opened one of the drawers in the desk in front of the windows, taking out two black satin jackets, handing one to Jim and one to Leonard.

"Really?" Jim said in even more excitement when he looked closely at the jacket. It was the same jacket the band wore on tour, with their names inscribed on the front over the miniature iceberg logo. "This is awesome," Jim exclaimed, pulling his on as Leonard did the same.

"This was completely unnecessary," Bones said, shaking his head. "But very cool indeed."

"It was nothing," Todd assured them. "We thought you'd like them."

"That's an understatement," Jim said with a luminescent smile. "Utterly unbelievable."

"You're welcome," Chillie laughed.

"I'll definitely send enough copies of my next book," Jim laughed.

"Have you started it?" Darryl C. asked.

"Not yet. It may not be part of the Paraguay series," Jim admitted, the band the first outside his 'family' he had told he was considering going off in a different direction. He certainly hadn't told Spock since he hadn't communicated with him since their disastrous non-lunch. Spock had contacted Chris several times, Chris dealing with it or asking Jim what he wanted to do.

"Do tell?" Darryl Y said, interest sparking in his dark eyes, eyes that reminded Jim of someone else who he did _not_ want to think about right now.

"I'm not leaving the Paraguay series forever. But I feel like it's in a safe stopping place with Cereec'o. Not permanently but for a hiatus. I don't want to risk ending up like Hillary Rodgers. Nobody will read her if her pixies aren't in the story."

"That'll never happen to you," Chillie said, shaking his head. "Do you have an idea of what it will be about? Can you tell us?"

"I'm toying with the idea of writing about the First Contact Vulcans. Kind of a Christopher Columbus meets Surak story."

"That would be fabulous," Yvonne said.

"It will probably be from the point of view of the daughter of one of the first families. She'd be 9 or 10 – how she felt, what they thought of Earth, how they adjusted to being around Humans."

"It's a story that is waiting to be told," Todd said. "And you are the one to do it."

"Thanks," Jim said with a smile.

"I think those Vulcans should go back to where they came from," Larry said, his voice stern but quiet.

"We know that's what you think, Larry. We also know it's never going to happen," Yvonne reminded him.

"Why are they even here? Taking jobs from Humans. Acting all high and mighty with their superior intellect and 'logic.'"

"Larry," Todd said in exasperation. "Cut it out. Please."

"Damn Vulcans," Larry muttered before letting it go.

Jim glanced at Leonard who didn't know whether to be really angry or seriously amused. He knew that sort of prejudice existed but it was rare that it was so openly on display. Well, it wasn't their problem. Fortunately lunch arrived before any more ugly comments could be made by anyone about the relative merits of Vulcans being on Earth.

Leonard was relieved to see that Jim ate almost his entire cheeseburger and all of his fries. He'd have preferred they were carrot sticks but at least Jim ate.

Shortly after they had finished, they excused themselves, not wanting to risk overstaying their welcome. The band understood and after settling on the time they would meet for hockey and the museum, Jim and Leonard left.

"Do you think there's an ice cream place close by?" Jim said when they were in the hallway.

"Hmm…" Leonard said, taking out his phone. "Ben and Jerry's. One street over."

"Perfect," Jim said. "I know it's snowing out but…"

"It's fine. Come on. I'll buy you a milk shake," Leonard said, bumping shoulders to get him going the right direction.


	24. Queen of Daytime

_Now when I bore people at a party, they think it's their fault. ~_Henry Kissinger

* * *

"Calm down, kid," Leonard said again as Jim paced in the Green Room which was actually painted a very soothing pale blue. "She adores you. The audience adores you or they wouldn't be in the audience. Cereec'o is number one of the New York Times bestseller list and it only hits the shelves at midnight."

"I know," Jim said, taking a deep breath. "I'll be okay once it starts. It's this waiting I can't stand."

"I know," Bones said in sympathy. "Does it help that Chillie is here? Or does it make it worse?"

"Oh no. It's very cool that he came. And Yvonne. Larry, though," Jim said, shaking his head.

"He's something. You know Chillie wishes he could fire Larry."

"Probably. But then his Darryl would probably quit. What Darryl Y sees in Larry is beyond me."

"The same could be said of certain people in this room," Leonard said, instantly regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. To his immense relief, Jim laughed.

"God you have sucky timing."

"I do," Bones had to admit. "Drink some water. But not too much."

Jim nodded, taking several sips and popping a cough drop in his mouth. His voice was mostly recovered from the concert but it was still a little raspy, which Yvonne assured him only added to his already immense appeal. Which was lovely but he didn't really need any additional pressure.

The knock on the door indicated there were five minutes until Jim's appearance so Leonard followed the stage manager out to take his seat in the audience, sitting next to Chillie.

"He okay?" Chillie asked kindly.

"He will be. Once it starts," Leonard said, falling obediently silent when the audience was informed they had applauded long enough and loudly enough at Oprah's appearance.

"You know how I excited I am," Oprah said to her worshipful audience. "You are too, I can tell. And if you look under your seats, you'll find a copy of his latest." She paused as the audience took out their copies of Cereec'o amidst squeals of delight. "Maybe we can talk him into signing after the show," she said, a thunderous round of applause greeting the idea.

"Will he?" Chillie asked Leonard quietly.

"For a little while. Until he can't take it any longer."

"Yeah," Chillie agreed like a man who knew.

"Should we bring him out?" Oprah asked her audience who sprang to their feet in unison. Leonard couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Jim. Who could ever live up to such open adulation? "I give you Jim Kirk," Oprah said dramatically, Jim appearing from behind the curtain, the applause growing even louder.

Jim smiled at the audience, wishing they would stop and sit down. It's not like he wasn't already too nervous for words. He turned his focus instead on Oprah who stood waiting for him with open arms. A quick hug and a whispered word of encouragement and they sat down.

Oprah looked out at the audience that were still showering Jim with adoration, then at Jim who could only smile back at her. He felt a little like an idiot but trying to stop them was neither possible nor his place.

"They'll wind down," Oprah assured him, leaning a little closer to make sure he heard her.

"I hope so," Jim responded, studying only Oprah and the deep blue outfit she wore. It was clearly an original made just for her. "You look more beautiful than ever."

"And you are a flatterer," she scolded with a warm smile. "One more reason I love having you on."

"Thanks for buying all those books. Should keep me number 1 for at least a week," he joked.

"I got them at a discount," she laughed. "Hope that doesn't cut into your lifestyle."

"I'll survive," he said, straightening away from her when the applause finally stopped.

"Welcome," she said so all could hear her.

"Thank you. Always lovely to be here," he responded with a smile that had the audience gasping.

"Number one after, what, less than 24 hours?" she asked with a twinkle.

He shrugged at that. "Power of the internet. Thanks to my fans." The audience clapped at that, Jim clapping for them.

"For those who haven't had the chance to read it, give us a quick overview of Cereec'o, with no spoilers if possible," she requested.

He obliged, giving a synopsis of what Avery, Andre, and Nerissa were up to in this novel.

"No marriage proposal?"

"Not yet," Jim said. "They'll get married eventually."

"That's good to know," Oprah said with a nod. "What of the rumors about a possible movie adaptation?"

"I haven't heard those rumors," Jim laughed. And he hoped that was all they were – rumors.

"From what I've heard, Brad Pitt is petitioning to get the lead," Oprah told him.

"With all due respect to Mr. Pitt, he's a little old to play Avery," Jim said, making the audience laugh.

"Maybe so," Oprah said with a warm smile. "What do you think of the possibility?"

"Of a movie?" Jim said. "John Le Carre has been quoted as saying 'Having your book turned into a movie is like seeing your oxen turned into bouillon cubes.' If _he_ feels that way, I can't imagine seeing the Paraguay series turned into bouillon."

"So you hadn't heard of that possibility?"

"I hadn't. I'll call my lawyer and ask if he knows. He sometimes only tells me things he wants me to know," Jim laughed.

"He's also your manager," Oprah said.

"Yeah. He tries to manage my life but I can generally stop him if I try hard enough," Jim said.

"Sounds like an excellent arrangement," Oprah said with a smile.

"Better for me than him," Jim agreed.

"As if often the case," Oprah said. "Are you enjoying your visit to our beautiful city?"

"I am," Jim said with a bright smile, ignoring the giggles from the audience. "I took in a Blackhawks game. They won. Go Hawks," he said giving a fist pump to the approval of those gathered. "We went to the Ice Floes concert."

"You've been busy," Oprah said. "The Ice Floes had originally been scheduled to appear today. That was before we knew it was the publication date."

"Oh dear," Jim said with a laugh. "Hopefully they won't be mad at me for bumping them."

"They'll be on tomorrow," she assured him.

"Good," Jim said, wondering briefly why Chillie hadn't told him. But it really was of very little consequence.

As they continued chatting, as naturally as if they had been in their living room, Bones' phone vibrated. He reluctantly took it out to find a text from Pike: _As soon as the interview is over, come to Airfield Yeager._

_She said he'd sign autographs. And we're having dinner with Chillie,_ Bones texted back.

"Everything okay?" Chillie asked, leaning closer to speak quietly.

"Fine, fine," Bones said, erasing the frown off his face before it worried Chillie.

_How long? _Pike asked.

_No idea. What of dinner? _Bones wrote back.

_That's a problem. Can you get out of it without causing a fuss?_

Bones considered the question, paying some attention to the conversation Jim was having with Oprah. Jim was better at thinking up reasons for their mysterious absences and sudden change of plans, being a writer and all. _I'll tell Jim when the interview is done._

_Keep me posted,_ Pike responded.

Bones put his phone back in his pocket, all attention focused on the interview. Jim was witty and charming and had the entire audience in the palm of his hand. As well as the Queen of Daytime who looked a little like she wanted to lick him. All over.

When the interview finally ended, with Oprah confirming her everlasting love of Jim and his writing, Jim said good-bye to the audience at home and stood to stretch. The women glued to their seats inhaled as one, sighing when he smiled over at them.

"Will you stay and sign your books?" Oprah asked him so that the audience could hear.

"Sure," Jim agreed. "First I have to powder my nose."

"Of course," she laughed. "You go ahead. We'll organize the tables and the lines."

Jim nodded, watching Bones approach, recognizing the expression on his face. They went silently into the men's room, Jim asking immediately what was wrong.

"Pike needs us at Airfield Yeager," Bones said, Jim frowning at that.

"You tell him about the autographs?"

"Yeah. He asked how long it would take. I said I didn't know and we're supposed to have dinner with Chillie."

Jim nodded, locking the bathroom door and taking out his phone to call Chris. "Hey."

"When can you be here?" Chris asked without preamble.

"Uhmm… I need to stay for at least an hour. Then we'll have to tell Chillie something. We should be able to get there in less than two hours."

There was a thoughtful pause on the other end as Jim waited. "Get here as quickly as you can without raising suspicions. Tell Chillie you're sorry but something's come up."

"We will. We'll get there as soon as we can," Jim said, hanging up and taking care of business. "What should we tell Chillie?"

"You're the writer. You tell me."

"Hmm… well. I guess we should tell him that we need to get home. And hope he doesn't press us for details."

"Okay," Leonard said, unlocking the door and leading Jim out. They were intercepted by the stage manager who said they might want to go into the green room since they weren't quite ready to start the book signing. Leonard asked if he knew where Chillie was, and was escorted to where he waited.

"Hey," Chillie said in greeting where he was waiting in one of the out-of-the-way areas.

"We have to leave as soon as Jim finishes. An emergency at home," Leonard said.

"Everything okay?"

"It will be. We would prefer to stay but we can't," Leonard said.

"I understand. Is there anything I can do to help out?"

"Thanks but no. We'll be fine. And we'll call as soon as we can," Leonard said, wondering if that was too much. But Yvonne had come up and Chillie told her. She seemed to understand that Leonard couldn't discuss it any further and with a kind word, left with Chillie.

Leonard went back to the green room where the stage manager was telling Jim they would stop the line after an hour. That might be enough time and they wouldn't allow photos. Photos, if they were allowed, would slow things down significantly.

"That's fine," Jim agreed with an easy smile. It turned even brighter when Oprah knocked and entered.

"Brilliant as always," she said, kissing his cheek. "Hurry and write your next book so you can come back."

"You got it," he agreed.

"As much as I'd love to stay, I have to fly," she said in regret.

"I understand. Thank you for having me."

"It was my pleasure. Leonard," she said to him with a smile. "Always lovely seeing you."

"You too," Bones said.

There was another knock on the door just as Oprah was leaving, one of the crew telling them that the tables and line barriers were in place. She escorted Jim and Leonard to the tables, Leonard sitting off to the side out of the way. There were several markers and a pitcher of water. Jim poured a glass for Leonard who accepted it with a nod.

"You ready?" the stage manager asked.

"I am," Jim agreed, putting on his best _it's-so-nice-to-meet-you_ smile. The fans were orderly and enthusiastic, some wanting to linger. Those were ushered gently on, the parade not stopping.

Jim was sure he was never going to be able to straighten his fingers again when the stage manager said that was everybody. It had taken a little longer than an hour, Jim not minding the few extra minutes. He figure Pike wouldn't know exactly so it was fine that they stayed until all the requests were filled.

"Thanks again," Jim said with a smile at the crew that had gathered.

"Thank you," the stage manager said, handing Jim a gift bag. He knew inside was a bottle of very fine champagne and a personally signed thank you note from Oprah.

He and Leonard finally made it out to the rental, Leonard calling Pike. "We're on our way now."

"Good."

"Is someone checking us out of the hotel?" Bones asked.

"Done."

"All right. We'll be there in 35 minutes. Less if the snow lets up."

"Drive safely but get here as soon as you can," Pike instructed, hanging up.

Jim drove carefully out of the city, arriving at the airfield in the 35 minutes Leonard had predicted. They entered the code into the gate so that it would magically open to allow them in.

Pike was in the secure briefing room inside the hanger, opening the door so that Jim and Leonard could also enter. Once inside, they found Selema Robau Asad waiting there as well.

"Selema," Jim said with a smile, kissing her cheek.

"Jim. Leonard," she returned, accepting Bones' kiss. "It's been too long."

"It has," Bones agreed. "You look spectacular."

"And you have a silver tongue," she said with a beautiful smile. Selema was of Pakistani descent, with the characteristic complexion and black eyes to match her black hair. For all she looked Pakistani, she had been born and raised in America and dressed like it, sporting jeans that showed off her curvaceous figure, and a red sweater that was appealing yet modest.

She was at the top of the echelon of the Consortium where the Middle East was concerned. That she spoke Arabic, Urdu, Punjabi, and several relatively minor languages made her an invaluable asset when they were summoned to the Mid-East. It also helped that Jim spoke Arabic and understood much of Urdu.

"That I do," Bones agreed.

"You need to get to Rahth Mutadaffaq," Pike said, pulling down a map of the Middle East. "Sheik Siraj Khalil-Gheisari is ready to re-emerge and reclaim his familial oil fields. The cartel isn't going to be happy about it since he is always in favor of lowering the price for us. But he and his family are agitating for his return to power and Tahla promised we'd see to it. Sheik Wahenrha won't be mourned by his people considering he rules with a tight fist. They will think it's an act of God, that they are being released from his prison."

"What do we do with Sheik Jmhanahe Wahenrha-Grhadrha?" Jim asked.

"No one will mourn his passing, not even his family who thinks he's a camel's behind. Extract him if you can. Eliminate him if you can't," Pike ordered.

"Where is Khalil now?" Leonard asked.

"Safehouse Phmsmha in Bahegmha Smhasahe. It should be easy enough to get him out," Pike said. "You won't have to worry about that. Kameer Bouhadi and Sam Giotto are going to bring him to Rahth Mutadaffaq."

"Will they arrive before or after we take care of Wahenrha?" Jim asked.

"We need to have Khalil nearby. If we can't have him installed immediately, another tribe will claim dominion," Selema said.

"Right," Pike agreed. "We have Safehouse Srhatmha ready for him. Security is already in place. The three of you are going to check into the Emirates Pavilion. Jim and Selema, you'll be making the final arrangements for your upcoming wedding. Leonard, you'll be there as chaperone as Selema is next in line for the throne of Bahegmha Smhasahe."

"I've always fancied myself as a princess," Selema laughed, tossing back her hair in a most royal fashion.

"And I've always wanted to be a consort," Jim said. "Your highness," he added quickly when she raised one royal eyebrow at him.

"We'll have bodyguards?" Leonard asked.

"Of course. Kameer and Sam will stay with you the entire time you're there."

"All right," Leonard acknowledged.

"How was Oprah?" Selema asked Jim, laughing when he groaned.

"Fine. You know. Apparently my _lawyer_ has been in talks with someone about turning my books into movies," Jim said, scowling at Chris.

"Only preliminarily. Nothing you need to worry about. Yet," Chris said.

"I don't want to worry about it at all," Jim told him.

"They are willing to buy the rights for 5 million for the first and 4 for each subsequent novel."

Jim sighed and shook his head. "Really? They are so bereft of their own ideas they need to buy mine?"

Chris shrugged at that.

"She also told me that Brad Pitt was campaigning to be Avery. He's too old. And too well known," Jim said.

"I said that to them. I suggested an up-and-coming actor by the name of Christopher Pine."

"Never heard of him," Jim said, shaking his head. "He any good?"

"He's dreamy. His eyes are almost as blue as yours," Selema said with a smile. "He'd make an excellent Avery."

"Whatever," Jim said with a wave of his hand. "Do what you think is best. You know I trust you."

"What happens when the press gets wind of Jim's sudden wedding?" Bones asked.

"Privacy. Need for security. His personal life stays out of the media for the most part," Pike said. "If it gets out, I'll deal with it. And the royal family of Bahegmha Smhasahe has agreed to support the reports. Their real daughter, Wajeeha, agreed to disappear for the duration. Selema looks enough like her that it won't raise suspicions. Supposedly the royal family is opposed to their heir-apparent marrying a heathen from the West so they refuse to attend the wedding."

"Engagement ring?" Selema asked Chris who extracted a box from his pocket to hand to her. She opened it, gasping softly at the beauty of it. "Oh my. You have excellent taste."

"Thank you," Chris and Jim said at the same time, Selema laughing.

"It's insured but please be careful," Chris added as Selema slipped it onto her finger.

"You can be sure we will," Selema said, showing it to Leonard to admire.

"Is there anything else we need to know?" Leonard asked.

"There's a full briefing on the shuttle. Go to Emirates Pavilion and act like lovers who are willing to defy Wajeeha's parents. But don't go overboard."

"Right," Jim agreed. "Everything we need is on the shuttle?"

Chris nodded at that. "Weapons. Money. Clothes. Passports. Selema, you'll need to change into one of the _thobes_ at Airfield Tal'ifi. Jim and Leonard, you'll need to put on the one of the suits. Look like mega-wealthy western business men."

Confident they were ready, they went to the shuttle so that Jim and Selema could do the pre-flight checks as Leonard did the inventory.

"We all set, Bones?" Jim asked from the co-pilot seat.

"Sure are," Leonard agreed, taking the seat behind Selema and buckling in. "We're ready."

"Good," Selema said, relaying the information to Chris who wished them luck.


	25. Rahth Mutadaffaq

_Where there is mystery, it is generally suspected there must also be evil. ~_Lord Byron

* * *

Spock could stand it no longer. He needed to talk to Jim like he needed the oxygen that he inhaled, the food that he ate, the water that he drank. That they had already tried and failed to meet on common ground did not deter him from wanting, needing to try again. He was willing to admit that he was at fault for their failure to reconcile. If he had told Jim that he could, _would_ accept him no matter what he did for or at the behest of the Consortium, things would have turned out much differently. What had he thought Jim would say at the restaurant? Had he expected him to repudiate his connection? Tell Spock his life would miraculously be simpler and he would no longer work as an assassin for hire? Surely Spock was not so delusion that he had convinced himself that Jim would say those things.

Being in love clouded his vision. Of that he was certain, making him think that perhaps Surak was right in teaching Vulcans the dangers of emotions. Spock had been brought up with those Vulcan tenants - that logic was essential while emotions were dangerous. Despite the beliefs which had been instilled in him since his first years, he had fallen in love with a mysterious, intriguing, infuriating Human. And he might possibly have ruined any chance they had at a future.

The emotions of regret and melancholy were fighting for supremacy. He had tried meditating them away. And failed. He had tried ignoring them. And failed. He had talked to his mother. That had been a mistake. She encouraged him to try again. To not be discouraged by the incident at the restaurant. "Your hearts are made to be together, dear. He knows it too."

Spock sighed, something he could not have imagined doing before falling in love with Jim. This situation was entirely unacceptable. And what was it his mother had told him? That Jim was appearing on that talk show today? When was that on? At four according to Amanda.

Admitting to himself that he was not going to get any work done in the state he was in, Spock left the office and went up to his penthouse. He made himself a cup of tea before going into the guest bedroom where the only TV he owned was located. He settled in the comfortable chair and switched on the set, consulting the guide to determine the correct channel.

It was still twelve minutes before 4:00 o'clock. He was equally assaulted and mesmerized by the advertisements that blared out at him while he waited. Did people really need a rag that could hold ten times its weight in water? What was wrong with using a towel? Everyone had towels. He finally turned off the sound, content to only watch the madness and not be deafened by it.

When the screen indicated that the show was about to begin, he resumed the sound, listening to the lovely woman about whom he had heard so much introduce Jim Kirk. Spock felt an uncharacteristic catch in his throat when Jim walked out, a warm genuine smile on his face as he greeted her. They exchanged light kisses and… was that jealousy that Spock would never admit to welling up? The camera panned the audience and there on the front row center, looking calm and collected, was Dr. McCoy. That also made Spock jealous – that the Doctor was privileged to spend so much time with Jim – time Spock had denied them both.

Spock shoved those unwanted thoughts aside, focusing on the conversation between Jim and Oprah. The tea grew cold in his hands as he stared at the vision of Jim on the television screen. The close-ups were almost more than he could bear to witness, so mesmerizing was Jim's personality even from the box of the TV set.

He was shaken from his reverie when Oprah mentioned that she had heard of talks about turning his books into movies. How was that possible? House Net'no'kwa would be required to provide the necessary releases and permissions. Had Christopher Pike negotiated directly without informing him? This was not acceptable.

Just as soon as the show concluded, Spock dialed Jim's cell phone, not in the least surprised that there was no answer. He did not bother to leave a message as Jim undoubtedly would not call him back even if he did.

Disconnecting, he dialed Christopher Pike's number.

"Pike here."

"Mr. Pike," Spock said in a deceptively even tone.

"Mr. Spock," he returned. "What can I do for you?"

"I was watching the Oprah Winfrey presentation. What is this about a movie studio expressing an interest in the Paraguay series?"

"It is still very preliminary," Pike said.

"Preliminary or not. House Net'no'kwa must be represented at any future negotiations."

"Not until a decision is made. Your company owns the publication rights. Jim retains ownership of all copyrights," Pike reminded him.

"House Net'no'kwa must release the rights before it can be utilized in any other medium," Spock said.

"Those are technicalities," Pike said. "You aren't going to refuse if they want to make them into movies."

"How can you be certain?"

"Because no publisher will refuse to allow their authors to bring even more attention to their works."

"Where is Jim now? I called. There was no answer."

"You know I'm not at liberty to discuss that," Pike reminded him. Spock thought he detected a possibility of guilt, or sympathy, but he was not certain.

"Indeed," Spock said. "I take it he is no longer in Chicago."

"I didn't say that," Pike replied.

Spock quelled the impatience he felt trying to well up. "Would you ask that he call me when he has the opportunity?"

"I'll pass on your request," Pike said.

"Very well," Spock said. "You will alert me should the talks on the movies progress."

"Certainly," Pike agreed.

"Thank you," Spock said, hanging up before Pike could respond. Not only was he in danger of losing control of his emotions, his manners were equally ready to abandon him.

~o0o~

"Mother," Spock said as he answered his phone in the early evening several days later.

"Hello dear," Amanda responded. "You're doing okay?"

"I am," he lied easily. He was far from fine but did not see any point in imposing that on his mother when there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. Not surprisingly, Jim had not returned his call, much as he predicted.

"I don't suppose you've been watching Access Insider, have you?"

"I take it that is some sort of television program?" Spock responded.

"Yes. It's quite ridiculous. And wants to be scandalous but mostly it's innocuous. I happened to be watching it tonight. Waiting for the news, you know," she laughed lightly.

"Of course," Spock agreed, wondering why her viewing habits warranted a phone call. This was most unusual.

"They were showing Jim Kirk's picture," she said. "I thought it was because of the release of his book. But it's not. Did you know he's in Rahth Mutadaffaq?"

"Rahth Mutadaffaq?" Spock repeated, certain that could not be right. What would he be doing in the Middle East?

"The reporter said they were trying to track him down because they heard that he is getting ready to marry Wajeeha, heir to the throne of Bahegmha Smhasahe."

"And he is currently in Rahth Mutadaffaq?" Spock asked.

"He is staying at the Emirates Pavilion. They are apparently getting married next week. Does that make sense to you, dear?" Amanda asked in genuine concern.

"It does not," Spock said. "This is most surprising."

"It is," Amanda said. "I'm very sorry."

"As am I," Spock replied, for more reasons than his mother could ever understand. "Thank you for informing me."

"Are you all right, dear? Would you like to come for dinner?"

"Thank you, Mother. I am perfectly fine. I appreciate the invitation."

"Very well," Amanda said, disconnecting after their farewells.

Spock immediately called Chris Pike's cell phone, annoyed that there was no answer until after 7 long rings.

"Pike here," he finally answered.

"I do not believe that Jim is marrying anyone. Least of all not in Rahth Mutadaffaq," Spock informed him.

"Do you know where the Consortium offices are?" Pike asked.

"No," Spock said.

"All right. I'll come to your office."

"When will you arrive?" Spock asked. Demanded.

"It will take me 20 minutes."

"Very well," Spock said, hanging up. He informed T'Lura that he was not to be disturbed until Mr. Pike arrived. That done, he used his computer to search for references to the supposed marriage for which Jim had flown to Rahth Mutadaffaq. He found one passing mention on the website of that television show his mother had spoken about, saying that Jim and Wajeeha, heir to the throne, had been inseparable since their arrival. The somewhat blurry photo was definitely of Jim, the woman wearing a blue _thobe_, a matching blue scarf loosely over her flowing black hair. The woman seemed to be smiling up at Jim, perhaps laughing at something he had just said. Vaguely in the background, Spock could see Dr. McCoy and two other men who looked like they were trying to be inconspicuous. He thought he recognized the one on the right but the poor quality of the photo made it impossible for him to be certain.

He looked over at his door as T'Lura knocked and opened it to allow Christopher Pike to enter. He wore an immaculate dark navy business suit with a smart blue tie and equally immaculate shoes.

"Mr. Pike," Spock said, looking up at him from where he still sat behind his desk.

"Spock," Chris returned, deciding they were way past the formality of honorifics. "Are you reasonably certain that your office is secure?"

"I am. We have the building checked for possible security breaches on a weekly basis."

"Good," Chris said, looking down at him.

"Sit. Please," Spock offered reluctantly, waiting as Chris complied. "While I acknowledge I have no _claim_ to Jim, I am certain that if he were planning to marry, he would have informed me."

"He would have," Chris agreed. "I can't provide you any details. You must realize that."

"I am not asking for confidential information. I am asking if Jim Kirk is planning to marry the heir to the throne of Bahegmha Smhasahe."

"He is not. She is not. The woman they think is Wajeeha is a member of the Consortium. If their assignment demands it, they will marry while in Rahth Mutadaffaq. It will not be legally binding."

"I see," Spock said. "He flew there directly from Chicago?"

"Yes. It was a change of plans. He was informed only after he finished on Oprah."

Spock nodded at that, glancing down at his desk before looking up to meet the steel grey of the other man's eyes. "Is Jim well?" Spock finally asked, the words leaving his mouth only reluctantly.

"Do you want the truth? Or do you want convenient platitudes?" Chris asked in return.

"The truth," Spock said.

"He's heartbroken," Chris said bluntly. "I don't know what went on when you met at the restaurant. Jim didn't say. But I can tell you that whatever you said hurt him deeply."

Spock considered those words. "It was that which I did not say that was the most cruel."

"I'm not trying to patch things up with you," Pike said. "But I've known Jim a long time. A really long time. And I've never seen him like this."

Spock nodded. "When he returns, I wish to speak to him. To… make amends."

"Make amends? Or drive him further away?" Pike asked.

"I never intended to drive him away," Spock said in a tight voice. "There is some difficulty in reconciling the man that I know with the actions he undertakes."

"Clearly. And if you aren't willing to accept him – all of him – you have to stay away from him. And we _will_ break his contract in order to go elsewhere," Pike warned.

"That will not be necessary," Spock said. "Threats also are not necessary."

"I don't make threats," Pike said. "I have already contacted three publishing houses who are willing to pay the 'out-clause' of Jim's contract to have him on their imprint. If it comes to that, we won't think twice about accepting one of their offers."

"I understand," Spock said. "It will not come to that."

"I hope not. House Net'no'kwa has been very good to Jim. We hope to maintain that relationship indefinitely."

"As do I," Spock said. "Jim has been very good to the House."

"Yes. Well. He's an enormously talented writer. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that."

"He also has talents which lie elsewhere."

"He's enormously talented in _all_ that he does," Chris confirmed.

"I have no doubts," Spock said. "Have you had further contact with the movie studios?"

"I have not. I will inform you should the occasion arise."

Spock nodded at that. "I need to be kept informed."

"You _wish_ to be kept informed," Pike corrected.

Spock did not respond to that, looking directly at Pike as though daring him to add anything further. He had the impression that the older man was having some difficulty in suppressing his amusement which only caused an unwelcome swell of annoyance on Spock's part.

"I have taken enough of your time," Pike said, standing. "If you haven't done so already, might I encourage you to discuss this situation with your parents?"

"My parents," Spock repeated, understanding there was more to his statement than parental relationships.

"Yes. Perhaps have dinner with them. _Tonight_."

"Indeed," Spock said.

Chris nodded once at that. "I'll let you know when Jim gets back."

"Thank you," Spock said before walking Pike to the door. After their good-byes, Spock returned to his desk to call his mother. "Mother."

"Hello dear," Amanda said, delight in her voice.

"May I rescind my refusal to join you for dinner?"

"Of course," Amanda agreed. "Please come whenever you are ready."

"I will leave shortly. Is Father home?"

"He is. Do you want to speak with him?" Amanda asked.

"I will talk with him when I arrive," Spock said.

"All right, dear. We'll wait until you get here to have dinner."

"Very well," Spock said, hanging up after saying farewell. He tidied his already immaculate desk before closing down his computer and locking his desk. When he entered the outer office, he was not surprised to find it unoccupied. As it was Friday he was certain everyone had left precisely at closing time. Except T'Lura who had no doubt left as soon Mr. Pike arrived.

The door to his parents' house opened as he exited his car. He left his coat with the J'Zarh, who directed him to the living room where he would find his parents.

"Spock," Amanda said when he entered. She approached to grace him with a light kiss, Spock returning it in kind. He then greeted his father properly, accepting the invitation to sit on the couch.

"Amanda informs me that she told you of James Kirk's purported marriage."

"She did. I have been assured by Christopher Pike that is not an actual engagement."

"Did Pike give you any indication as to Kirk's reasons for being in Rahth Mutadaffaq?"

"He is not at liberty to discuss it. He said that it is an assignment with the Consortium. He did, however, encourage me to discuss it with you," Spock said.

Sarek and Amanda exchanged a look, Amanda nodding in encouragement.

"I spoke with T'Pau," Sarek said finally, clearly reluctant to admit it. Which would have seemed strange. But under the circumstances, Spock could not think what would seem normal.

"Regarding Jim." Spock said.

"She expressed some concern," Sarek said.

"In what way?" Spock prompted, some part of him wishing his father would simply tell him what he had to tell him.

"She has received information that the Consortium was contracted to restore Sheik Siraj Khalil-Gheisari to the throne."

"That is why Jim is there?" Spock asked.

"That is why the Consortium sent him," Sarek said. Why did that sound like a contradiction?

"I do not understand."

"T'Pau was told that Sheik Jmhanahe Wahenrha-Grhadrha is aware of their plans to remove him from power and restore Khalil-Gheisari. She said that it is entirely likely that the members of the Consortium dispatched to Rahth Mutadaffaq are walking into a trap," Sarek said, Spock's breath catching in this throat at those words.

"A trap."

"T'Pau spoke with Pike. He refuted what she was told. He is apparently unconcerned about the safety of his agents."

"Apparently?" Spock repeated. "How reliable is the information that T'Pau received?"

"She would not have informed me if she was not certain of the veracity of the communication."

"Yet Pike does not believe her," Spock said, wanting to make sure he understood.

"She is not at liberty to tell him the source of her information. Without it, he could not substantiate it. With no independent verification, he is powerless to recall or warn his agents."

"He cannot warn them?" Spock asked, some tense anger in the words.

"To warn them could compromise the operation if she is not correct," Sarek said.

"This is unacceptable," Spock said. "Pike is willing to risk their lives?"

"He does not believe that he is," Sarek said.

"Have you communicated with Tahla?" Spock asked.

"I have been unable to reach her. Nor can I contact Kheri. They are incommunicado."

Spock looked at his father then at his mother. "This is unacceptable."

"It is," Sarek said. "Although Pike is unwilling and unable to intervene, T'Pal informed me that it is entirely possible that Montgomery Scott is going to Rahth Mutadaffaq. To deliver accoutrements for the wedding. Mr. Scott believes that is the _only_ reason he is going."

"When is he leaving?" Spock asked.

"In one hour and 21 minutes. He will need to leave his house in 47 minutes to arrive at the airfield at the appointed time," Sarek said.

Spock nodded. "How will I explain my presence?"

"You want to talk Jim out of marrying her," Amanda said. "You saw it on TV and it's not acceptable that he marry before you have the chance to explain."

"Montgomery will believe this?"

"Vulcans don't lie, dear," Amanda said with a secret smile.

"Indeed. Thank you, Father. I will contact you as soon as I can do so securely," Spock said, kissing his mother and leaving.


	26. Emirates Pavilion

_A/N: I live in the South, where *snow* is cataclysmic - resulting in "bread and milk" emergencies and schools closing. Which means I have today off work, even though the first flake has yet to fall - at least at my house. I thought since I'm home, I'd update Kirk James T. Kirk as a *snow* gift. Being home gives me more time to work on the next chapter!_

_Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and alerted this story! You make my muses very happy. And happy muses are productive muses! Won't you tell them what you think of this chapter too?_

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_It is seldom indeed that one parts on good terms, because if one were on good terms one would not part._ ~Marcel Proust

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Scotty couldn't contain his surprise when the sleek silver Jaguar pulled soundlessly into his drive. What in the name of Caesar's Ghost was Spock doing at his house? How did he even know his address?

Scotty firmly closed the tailgate of the Hummer before turning to watch Spock cross over to him. "Spock."

"Mr. Scott," Spock said. "I find myself in need of a favor."

"You do?" Scotty said, scratching his head beneath the knitted cap he wore. "What sort of favor?"

"I need to go with you to Rahth Mutadaffaq," Spock said.

"How in blue blazes do you know that's where I'm headed?" Scotty asked quietly. The low volume of his voice did nothing to disguise his complete surprise. He knew he wasn't getting any additional information when Spock simply gazed steadily back at him, one eyebrow raised, nearly in mockery. "Pike know about this?"

"Not officially. Officially I am not here. I have no idea of where you may be going or why," Spock said.

"So, theoretically, if I were to allow you to tag along, I would not find my butt handed to me by the Hierarchy?"

"As my grandmother has some sway over the Hierarchy, it is extremely doubtful you would be in any sort of trouble. Theoretically speaking," Spock said.

"If I theoretically contacted Pike, completely off the record, theoretically he'd agree that he doesn't know anything about you going to Rahth Mutadaffaq."

"Correct," Spock said. "We need to leave for the Airfield if we are arrive on time."

"Right you are," Scotty agreed, deciding that if Spock knew what time he was leaving, the rest of the information had to be as accurate. "Why is it you are wantin' to go to Rahth Mutadaffaq?"

"I learned of Jim's marriage to the heir to the throne of Bahegmha Smhasahe. I erred in my attempts to reconcile and am compelled to try once more before he marries in haste."

"Rebound ya' mean," Scotty said. He didn't think he bought Spock's story but _whatever_. Spock had all the information about his trip and if Pike wasn't going to stop him, what did it matter as to Spock's real motivation? Maybe Rahth Mutadaffaq was the new vacation spot for the rich and eccentric. "You have your passport?"

"I do," Spock agreed, taking it out. "However, Vulcans are not generally required to produce one."

"True enough. We could use more Vulcans in the Consortium."

"There are Vulcan members?" Spock asked, finding it curious that it had never come up before.

"A few. Joined very recently," Scotty said. "Experts at intelligence gathering."

"Are there any who follow Jim's… line of work?" Spock asked.

Scotty glanced over at Spock who was staring resolutely out the windshield. "Assassins ya' mean."

Spock nodded once. Scotty wasn't really sure he wanted an answer to that question. After all, from what Scotty understood, it was Jim's work as a clean-up expert that had caused the rift between them.

"Why are ye askin'?" Scotty finally asked.

"Inappropriate curiosity," Spock admitted.

"It's not inappropriate, seein' how you know the truth. I'm thinkin' it's that you canna imagine a Vulcan doing what Jim's required to do," Scotty guessed.

"Kill on the orders of others," Spock said. Scotty saw the smallest flinch at the reluctant words.

"We all will if it's necessary. You canna be a member if you object to protecting your team or yourself."

"Indeed," Spock said.

"Even Leonard has taken a life. It's particularly hard on him. But he'll do it."

"Yes," Spock said, not adding more to it. They spent much of the rest of the trip to the airfield in silence, Scotty trying to figure it out but not getting any closer to what the truth really was. No matter. Spock was coming and what happened after that was not Scotty's concern.

Spock was a tremendous help in unloading the Hummer, assisting Scotty in transferring the crates from the car to the shuttle. Once everything was on board, Spock took the co-pilot seat as Scotty did the pre-flight checks. Scotty felt Spock's eyes on him as he went through the required steps until he was ready.

"You buckled in?" Scotty asked.

"I am," Spock agreed. "How long will it take to arrive?"

"74 minutes," Scotty said, entering the code to open the roof and flying easily up and out. "We'll land at the airfield in Bahegmha Smhasahe and drive into the capital city from there."

"And that is 21 minutes?"

"Yes, generally. If there's no traffic and the harmattan is not up."

"Indeed," Spock said.

They talked of unimportant things, not broaching the subject of Jim and what Spock had done to him. Scotty considered confronting Spock about it but then decided it wasn't his place. Jim was a big boy and he could fight his own battles. If it came down to it, though, Scotty would not hesitate to give Spock a piece of his mind.

When they were 15 minutes past half way, Spock surprised Scotty by turning to him and saying: "I was not entirely truthful with you."

"Aye? What's that you say?" Scotty said, the surprise evident in his voice and on his face.

"Before I came to your house, I was speaking with my parents. My father primarily. He has information that indicates Jim and Leonard are walking into a trap."

"A trap?" Scotty repeated.

"You know that my grandmother is T'Pau," Spock said, to Scotty's nods. "She is the one who informed my father. She also informed Mr. Pike but she was unable to reveal the source of her information."

"What sort of trap?"

"According to T'Pau, Sheik Jmhanahe Wahenrha-Grhadrha knows that the Consortium plans to remove him from power so that Sheik Siraj Khalil-Gheisari can be reinstated. The planned coup is destined to fail," Spock said.

"Oh lordy," Scotty said. "And since Pike couldn't verify it, he canna call off the operation."

"Precisely," Spock said. "Although I am not trained in the ways of espionage, I will do whatever it is you deem necessary to safely return our friends to America."

Scotty nodded at that, thinking it over. This was going to be a tough go. Him and Spock against the forces of Sheik Wahenrha. At least they had surprise on their side. The Sheik was not expecting them to arrive. He wondered if there was any way to alert Jim and Leonard. "Do ya' think if we send them a message it would help?"

"I do not know," Spock said. "However, I would be concerned that their communications are being monitored. And as Sheik Wahenrha's forces do not know we are coming, we will have the advantage of the unexpected."

"Aye – that we will," Scotty agreed. "If it comes to it, are you able to take another life?" Scotty waited patiently as Spock gave the question the consideration it was due.

"While I have never done so previously, I will preserve the lives of our friends over those who would do them harm."

"So that's a yes?" Scotty asked.

"Yes. I will take another life if we are left with no alternative."

"Very well," Scotty said with a nod. "I have extra phasers in the supplies. We'll take them with us when we go to find Jim and Leonard."

"Yes," Spock agreed, looking out the windshield of the shuttle into the black of the sky. "Is there any possibility that this shuttle could arrive sooner than expected?"

"Aye. That she can. That she can," Scotty agreed, flipping two switches and depressing a small red button.

~o0o~

"I think I'm going to do some shopping," Selema told Jim and Leonard, leaning just that much closer to Jim. "Maybe pick up a _little_ something for the honeymoon."

"Sounds grand, my love," Jim agreed. "Do you need any money?"

"Do you have your credit card? Then I won't have to worry how much _your_ present costs," she said with a light laugh.

He had to smile at that, taking out his Centurion American Express card. "Have fun."

"You know I will," she assured him, nodding to Kameer Bouhadi so that he would follow her out and across to where the elite shops were located. Their breakfast in the restaurant had been sumptuous and elegant, as had every meal they had eaten at the Pavilion. She was pleased to note that even Jim hadn't been able to resist the delicious food that was served in great abundance. Living like a royal was something to which she could become accustom, although she did know her venture into royalty was temporary and, sadly, artificial.

She passed by a few of the shops, wondering if anyone really need a purse that cost £1200. Well, she certainly didn't need it even if the Consortium was responsible for the payments. She took a moment to consider the look on Chris Pike's face when he got that particular statement. 'But it was so pretty,' was probably _not_ an acceptable reason to pay that much for a purse that was barely large enough to hold her cellphone, status as pretend princess not-withstanding.

The next shop was one that featured women's clothes, beautiful _thobes_ in every color imaginable on display. The one she was wearing was ivory and was rather plain, considering she was impersonating royalty.

"Kameer," she said to the man standing a discreet distance away. "I'm going to pop into this shop."

He nodded, standing just inside the doorway, trying to look semi-inconspicuous but present enough to stop anyone from approaching the 'princess.'

The shopkeeper approached Selema with a smile, asking in Arabic if there was something special she was looking to purchase. Selema responded that she very much wanted a _thobe_ in sky blue and did this shop have one available?

The shopkeeper, who introduced herself as Haniyyah, was most pleased to show Selema one which was the exact color she wanted. As a bonus, the top most layer was embellished with intricate embroidery, crystals sewn into the design.

Selema agreed it was indeed one of the most beautiful _thobes_ she had ever seen. As it was made differently from the ones she ordinarily wore, she requested and received Haniyyah's blessings to slip into the fitting room and try it on to make certain it would hang correctly.

Selema nodded to Kameer before disappearing behind the heavy curtain that separated the shop from the back area, where the tiny fitting room was located. She was just in the process of removing the outer-most portion of her _thobe_ when she was startled by a sharp knock on the door.

"Your highness," Kameer's voice said in some urgency.

She naturally unlocked and opened the door, finding Kameer visibly distressed on the other side. "What's wrong?"

"Armed men just entered the Pavilion. According to Sam they are dressed in the colors of Sheik Wahenrha," Kameer explained in a rush.

"Oh no," Selema said, her eyes wide. "Did Sam get Jim and Leonard out?"

"I don't know," Kameer said, entering the fitting room and immediately spotting the tiny window. "Leave through the window," he instructed, taking off the heavy white robes he had been wearing, leaving him in a tee shirt and jeans he rolled down. "Take these. With any luck, they'll believe I'm a tourist."

Selema accepted the bundle from Kameer including his gun, and with his help squirmed out the window. Kameer made sure the window was fastened back so no evidence would remain that she had ever been in the shop.

He casually left the back area, stopping suddenly when three men approached, frowns on their faces. They were dressed in the traditional purple and black that marked them from the house of Wahenrha.

"Who are you?" the largest man demanded in Arabic.

"Son," Kameer said in English that was more heavily accented then Dr. McCoy's had ever been. "I don't speak nothin' but American English. What's that you're sayin' there?"

The three men exchanged frowns, the largest taking one step forward. "Who are you?" he asked slowly in English.

"Me? I'm not nobody. Billy Joe's the name. Carpeting's the game. You produce some mighty pretty rugs here, I can tell you for sure."

"What are you doing in a lady's boutique?" Large Man asked.

"Waitin'. MissyJo's been shoppin'. Wanted to try on one of them robes like the women here wear. She thought it'd be a novelty for when we get home. I got no idea where she thinks she'll be wearin' it back in the States but you know women. Once they get their minds set, well."

"Where is this…MissyJo now?" Large Man demanded.

"MissyJo?" Kameer said. "What's the hold up?" He waited a beat before focusing back on Large Man. "What can you do?" he asked with an exaggerated shrug.

"Bring her out here now," Large Man ordered, lifting his gun just that much higher.

"Okay okay. I'll see what I can do," Kameer agreed, turning toward the back of the store. To his immense surprise, a woman in Western dress came barreling out, stopping right up next to him.

"Hold your horses, Billy Joe. I'm right here," the woman with light brown hair and green eyes said breathlessly. She was not thin and wore an ankle length denim jumper over a long sleeved red polo. She was wearing sensible shoes that looked like they would be good for doing 'the tourist thing.'

"You are MissyJo?" Large Man asked, clearly incredulous.

"Yeah. That's me. Melissa Jolene. But Billy Joe always calls me that. You know how it can be when you been married long as we have," she said with a nervous giggle, Billy Joe nodding in agreement as he flung a casual arm across her shoulders.

Large Man lowered his very large gun slightly, eyeing them suspiciously. The two other men talked with him quietly, Large Man finally nodding. "I suggest you leave right away."

"Sure. Sure thing," Kameer said, taking MissyJo's hand. "Come on, darlin'. We don't want to be in these men's way."

"You are right about that," she agreed, following him out of the Pavilion and into the parking lot.

"Praise God in heaven," Kameer said, looking down at her. "Who are you?"

"I'm Samantha Faulkner. I'm a Consortium member stationed here," she explained in a low voice.

"And how did you end in the shop?" Kameer asked.

"I'll explain later. Right now we have to find out why Wahenrha's men are here," she said with some urgency. "Are you with Jim Kirk and Leonard McCoy?"

"Yes. They were in the restaurant when Selema decided to go shopping," Kameer explained. "My name's Kameer Bouhadi."

"Good to meet you, Kameer. Where do you think Selema is now?"

"Rendezvous point Evergreen."

"Good. That's only 4 minutes by foot from here. Try reaching her on your comm," Samantha said, starting out across the parking lot toward the indicated rendezvous area.

"Won't they be monitoring for signals?"

"The Consortium has them scrambled. By the time they trace it to us, we'll be gone," Samantha said, walking a little faster.

"All right," Kameer agreed, wondering when he started reporting to this woman he had never met before. "Kilo Bravo to Sierra Alpha. Do you read?"

They kept walking as they waited, Kameer repeating the request twice more before they reached a smallish hut that was labeled 'Caution: Staff Only' in Arabic and in English. Kameer took a credit card out of his back pocket and swiped it over the barely visible plate, the door unlocking with a soft click.

"Selema?" Kameer called quietly as they entered.

"Kameer?" a whisper returned from the black depths of the building.

"Yeah. You okay?"

Kameer and Samantha waited as Selema slowly emerged, a gun pointing directly at Kameer's chest.

"You're safe, Selema. It really is us," Kameer assured her.

She nodded and lowered the gun, her eyes wide in fear. "Samantha," she breathed, accepting a hug from the other woman.

"You know each other?" Kameer asked although it was clear that they did.

"Yes, Kameer," Selema said with an indulgent smile. "Samantha and I work together all the time."

"I had no idea," Kameer said, shaking his head. "Were you able to contact Jim and Leonard? Or Sam?"

"No," Selema said. "And I'm worried. You know Wahenrha didn't send just three men. Why are they even in the Pavilion?"

"That's the big question, isn't it?" Samantha agreed. "Is your comm being jammed?"

Selema took it out of her pocket, checking it to see if was functioning. It was not. "It is," she agreed, showing it to Samantha and Kameer.

"Then it's just us," Samantha said with a nod. "The first thing we have to do is find out where they've taken Jim and Leonard."

"When they were trying to decide to do with us, the leader used the word tuyuur-wakr," Kameer said.

"Birdnest," Samantha said, frowning.

"It can also mean high-place," Selema said.

"Or penthouse," Kameer said in realization.

"Of course. The penthouse. The easiest place to defend," Selema said.

"And there is a helicopter pad on the roof," Samantha added, startling the other two with the additional bad news.

"We need to contact the bureau chief," Selema said. "Which means we need to be at least 15 miles from their jamming equipment. Do you have a car?" she asked Samantha.

"I do. It's in the staff parking lot of the Pavilion," Samantha said, digging into her pocket for a set of keys.

"Did Haniyyah get out safely?" Selema asked.

"They weren't interested in her," Samantha assured her. "They were no doubt looking for you. Or someone from the Consortium."

"Yes. I'm glad they didn't realize either of you are part of it," Selema said, following Samantha and Kameer out of the hut, making sure they locked it behind them. "This is a very bad situation."

"You said it, dear," Samantha agreed, carefully entering the parking lot and staying between the cars so that they would not be so easily spotted.


	27. Louder Ain't Clearer

_A/N: Yep, another Snow Day special addition! The snow turned into sleet/freezing rain/general yuck. And since it hasn't gotten above 27 degrees, we're iced in. We _are_ delicate here in the South. It's also easier to drive in snow than drive on ice. This I learned from unfortunate experience._

_I hope wherever you are, you are safe, warm, and dry. And if you are so inclined, I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter! Reviews are even better than hot chocolate!_

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_The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief._ ~William Shakespeare, Othello

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"This is another fine mess you've gotten us into," Leonard said to Jim. They were left wearing only their briefs and tee shirts, courtesy of the four men who grabbed them out of the restaurant, none-too-gently dragging them to the top floor of the Pavilion. They had been taken into the private gym that was part of the privilege of being able to afford the most expense suite in the most expensive hotel in Rahth Mutadaffaq. Upon arrival inside the gym, their abductors demanded that Jim and Leonard strip, allowing them the dignity (at least temporarily) of retaining their underwear.

Once divested of their clothes, they were shoved in two hard chairs, handcuffed together back to back, Jim's right wrist fastened to Leonard's right, and their left wrists similarly bound. That made it virtually impossible for them to move or stand, and reduced their chance of escape by a considerable margin.

At the moment, they were alone in the sterile, over lit gym. The four men were in the hallway, discussing the situation and the next steps. So far, they hadn't asked Jim or Leonard any questions, which made Jim a little nervous. They had been captured for a reason. What that reason might turn out to be made Jim's stomach clinch.

"You think they know who we are?" Leonard asked Jim quietly.

"Chances are good," Jim admitted. "I doubt we were selected randomly."

"I sure hope Wajeeha is safe," Leonard said.

"I'm sure Kameer got her out. He's very clever that way," Jim said, watching the four men enter the gym and approach them. The shortest one was presumably in charge. He wore the same black and purple _thobes_ as did his companions, his the most elaborately adorned. Either he was particularly vain or he was in charge.

"Tell me what you are doing here," In Charge Man demanded, standing in front of Leonard.

"I don't speak Arabic," Leonard responded, staring up at the man. His answer got him backhanded. "Hitting me doesn't help. I still don't understand Arabic." The man backhanded him again for good measure before rounding them to stand in front of Jim, leaving Leonard with a split lip.

"What are you doing here?" the man demanded of Jim, silently daring him to deny his ability to speak Arabic.

"That's not your business," Jim responded in perfect Arabic, the leader frowning even more before making his displeasure physical by backhanding Jim.

"You are in _my_ country. You are violating several treaties. That makes it my business."

"I'm not violating anything," Jim informed him. "I'm here to marry Wajeeha. In two days."

"You aren't marrying anyone. The _real_ Wajeeha is in Bahegmha Smhasahe. You are here for other reasons and you will tell me what they are."

"My only purpose in coming here is to marry Wajeeha. If the woman with whom I've been spending all of my time is not my fiancée, someone has a lot of explaining to do."

"_You_ have a lot of explaining to do, Mr. Kirk. Like how you thought your involvement with the Consortium would remain a secret."

"What's a consortium?" Jim asked with wide innocent blue eyes.

"Your lies will do you no good. Telling me the truth may spare your life. And that of your friend."

"I have told you the truth. I'm here to marry Wajeeha. If you believe me here for other reasons, you are mistaken."

"Why do you speak perfect Arabic if you are not with the Consortium?"

"I'm a linguist. I have my PhD in mid-eastern languages, among others," Jim explained.

"Why would the heir to the Bahegmha Smhasahe wish to marry a Westerner? Do you intend to live in America?" the man asked, making _America_ the most vilest of curses.

"For half the year. The other half we will live in Bahegmha Smhasahe. I can write anywhere. And I met her when I was here studying for my doctorate. Love at first sight," Jim said with a romantic smile. The angry man backhanded Jim, Jim not reacting at all to the impact. "Hitting me doesn't change the truth."

"You are not telling the truth. And I will resort to much worse if you do not stop with the lies."

"I cannot stop lies I'm not telling," Jim informed him. He felt some short-lived satisfaction when the leader glanced over at the other three men with a look of vague exasperation on his face. There was a quick, angry exchange in Arabic, most of which Jim understood but did not let the fact show on his face. This was not going to go well for him and he was glad that Bones did not speak Arabic. That kept him unaware of all the nefarious, scary plans they had for Jim. He doubted he would survive their abuse from the way they were talking. The idea of dying didn't scare him particularly. Mostly he was disappointed about chances not taken. Paths not followed. Decisions not made - or that could no longer be changed. Well – Bones knew he loved him. That's what was really most important. And if they ended up killing him, surely they would release Bones. He would do them no good.

He remained impassive as two of the henchmen released him from the handcuffs, securing Bones to the chairs.

"Wait. What are you doing?" Bones demanded, looking up at the men. His only answer was a fist impacting his jaw, splitting his bottom lip to match his already bleeding top lip. He turned in his seat to watch two of the men fasten chains around Jim's wrists before securing the free ends to two pieces of heavy weight lifting equipment, ensuring he could not and would not move. Bones caught Jim's eyes which were calm and clear blue. If he was worried or scared, Bones could not tell.

When Jim was strung up from his wrists, barely able to balance on his toes, the Leader approached him, staring up at him.

"Now is an excellent time for you to give us the truth," the Leader demanded.

"I have given you the truth," Jim returned calmly. He barely flinched when the tallest of the henchmen punched him in the solar plexus. That he was gasping for air was not readily apparent to the men watching him.

"Perhaps you are ready to amend your answer," the leader suggested firmly.

Jim shook his head, inhaling as deeply as he could. The room was vaguely swimming but he was not going to make it obvious to the other men. Bones was silently impressed at Jim's control. Any other man would be doubled over as much as the restraints would allow, sucking in air.

"Where is your witty response now?"

"It will hardly matter what I say," Jim said, his voice as firm as it had been the entire time. This earned him another punch in the gut which left him completely breathless, his difficultly in breathing evident to all of them. Before he had recovered, the man behind him punched him in the kidney making Jim jerk backward. That would leave a mark.

"The truth, Mr. Kirk," the leader demanded. One of the henchmen grabbed Jim by the hair and jerked his head up so that he had no choice but look the leader in the eye. "The truth."

"I am telling the truth," Jim said when he had enough air in his lungs to speak. That was not the answer they wanted and henchmen released his hair to hit him again in the kidney. _Crap that hurt._ But he kept the pain off his face.

"If you are just a writer planning to marry a princess, why are you so adept at taking punishment?" the leader asked, his fists on his hips in anger.

"Hearty stock," Jim said. He learned that was the wrong answer when the leader cuffed his head with a ring encrusted hand, splitting his scalp. And as head wounds always do, the cut bled profusely, very quickly soaking the neck and right shoulder of Jim's tee shirt.

"Bind it," the leader ordered. "We do not want blood on the carpeting."

One the henchmen obeyed by ripping off Jim's half soaked tee-shirt and wrapping it tightly around Jim's skull.

"Thanks," Jim said cheekily, earning himself another blow to his midsection. At least this one didn't leave him gasping for air. The next punch, however, felt suspiciously painful in a sharp, piercing kind of way that he had learned to associate with cracked ribs. _Oh crap. Bones is going to kill me_ was his only thought in response. The blows became too rapid and numerous to think of separately, the pain building up in every area of his body. His eyes were nearly swollen shut from the blows, blood dripping from his nose and the corners of his mouth.

Through the pain-filled haze, he heard the men demanding the same information from Leonard, threatening him with the same treatment if he did not tell them what they wanted to know. Their threats were useless since Leonard didn't speak Arabic. Yet they were determined to shout at him in _only_ their native tongue.

"Louder ain't clearer," Jim heard Bones say. _Typical Bones_ Jim thought fondly as darkness started creeping in from the edges of his vision. The pain was winning. There were bright white streaks across the darkness, his own personal shooting stars. That was new. Did it mean he really was dying? Or maybe he had a concussion? Hard to know when pain and blackness were his only reality.

He made an attempt to look at Bones' cherished face, in case it was the last time he ever saw him. Bones looked surprisingly calm although understandably worried. That he hadn't said a word of protest while Jim was being beaten spoke well of Bones' training. Jim's final thought before the darkness won was _he really is an extraordinary person._

~o0o~

"Mike Sierra to Juliet Kilo. Mike Sierra to Juliet Kilo or Lima Mike. Come in," Scotty said for the fifth time, waiting impatiently for a response.

"It is unlikely they will respond," Spock said evenly.

"I know," Scotty snapped in impatience. "We may be too late."

"As I am aware," Spock said with more calm than he felt. "Have you attempted to raise Sam Giotto or Kameer Bouhadi?"

"Sam doesn't answer," Scotty said, picking up the comm again. "Mike Sierra to Kilo Bravo. Come in Kilo Bravo."

To their immense relief, Kameer responded. "This is Kilo Bravo."

"Thank the Lord," Scotty said. "Where are you?"

"Rendezvous Bunker Hill," Kameer said. "What is your ETA?"

"12 minutes," Scotty relayed. "What is your situation?"

"I have Wajeeha. Sierra Foxtrot is with us as well," Kameer told him.

"Sierra Foxtrot?" Scotty repeated, mentally reviewing the agents he knew to be assigned to this part of the world. "Ahh… right. Everyone is safe?"

"We are. We think hostiles have Juliet and Lima," Kameer said evenly.

"Sierra Golf?" Scotty asked.

"Unknown," Kameer responded. "Are you coming here?"

"We are," Scotty agreed.

"We?" Kameer repeated.

"Aye. Aye'll explain when we arrive. I suggest we maintain radio silence until then."

"Roger that," Kameer responded.

Scotty nodded, glancing over at Spock who looked composed but as worried as a Vulcan ever did. That the 'hostiles' had Jim was clearly a concern to him. And Scotty understood the feeling of helplessness that was overtaking the other man.

They remained wrapped in their own thoughts as Scotty flew directly to Bunker Hill. He was willing to take the risk of alerting air control in Rahth Mutadaffaq of their arrival. At this point, they weren't particularly concerned about who may or may not know of their presence.

Scotty landed soundless behind the rock out-cropping that hid the rendezvous entrance. When all of the landing checks were made, he opened the door, leading Spock out into the desert surrounding them. It was 21 kilometers to the nearest town, no roads for another 5 kilometers. Between the shuttle and the cave entrance was the 4x4 that could take them into the city.

As they approached the entrance, they spotted Kameer standing just outside the cave, a large gun pointed directly at them.

"Stand down," Scotty said.

"Who's this?" Kameer demanded, waving his gun at Spock.

"Spock. Son of Sarek. Grandson of T'Pau," Spock said for himself.

"Of course," Kameer said with a nod. "Sorry about the less than hospitable greeting."

"It is understandable," Spock assured him, following him and Scotty into the relative coolness of the cave.

"This is Selema Robau Asad and Samantha Faulkner," Kameer said, mostly for Spock's benefit. Scotty knew Selema and knew of Samantha though they had not previously met.

"What's the situation?" Scotty asked, addressing all of them.

"From what the men who intercepted us in the shop said, we think that Jim and Leonard are in the penthouse. We don't know where Sam Giotto is. He was in the restaurant with Jim and Leonard when Selema and I left," Kameer said, glancing at Selema to see if she had any other information.

"Who was the target?" Scotty asked.

"We think Jim," Selema said. "They didn't try particularly hard to find me."

"I concur," Kameer said. "The ones in the shop were focused on the Consortium. They didn't think I was connected."

"That is logical," Spock said. "They apparently knew of the plan to remove Sheik Jmhanahe Wahenrha-Grhadrha in favor of Sheik Siraj Khalil-Gheisari."

"And how do you know about that?" Samantha demanded, fists on her hips.

Spock simply looked back at her, no other answer forthcoming.

"That hardly matters," Scotty said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Have you communicated with Qudamah?"

"We haven't been able to reach him," Selema said.

"We need to contact Chris," Scotty said, taking out his comm. Making sure his signal was appropriately scrambled, he entered Chris' contact information. It took a few tense minutes before he responded.

"This is Charlie Papa. Go ahead."

"Hostiles have Juliet Kilo and Lima Mike. No word on Sierra Golf. Sierra Alpha and Kilo Bravo are secure. Qudamah is unreachable so we turned to you."

"Roger that. Is Sierra of Victor there?"

"Roger that. Sierra Foxtrot is here also."

There was a pause and they tried to wait as patiently as possible. "What is your current location?"

"Bunker Hill," Scotty told him.

"Roger that," Chris said. "There is reason to believe that a rat has gotten into the corn."

"Our thoughts exactly," Scotty agreed. "How should we proceed?"

"Retrieve Juliet and Lima. Collateral damage is to be expected."

"Are we still over-turning the big chair?" Scotty asked.

"Negative. We need to secure the corn first."

"Once we have our brothers, we will proceed to Bahegmha Smhasahe?"

"I will be there in an hour and a half. I will alert the medics to expect injuries."

"Copy that. Mike Sierra out."

"Good luck. Charlie Papa out."

"What are we going to do now?" Selema asked Scotty, including everyone else.

"May I offer a suggestion?" Spock asked, everyone focusing on him. At their silence, he continued. "I will enter the Pavilion and demand that I be given the penthouse. In the ensuing chaos, you can ascend to the top floor and retrieve our… friends."

"Aye," Scotty said, taking out his comm. "Sierra Mike to Papa Charlie. Come in Papa Charlie."

There was a brief delay before they received a response. "This is Hotel Sierra. Can I help?"

"We need Papa Charlie to hack a computer system," Scotty explained.

"Copy that. Stand by," Hikaru said. There was another brief delay until Pavel's voice responded.

"This is Papa Charlie."

"We need you to reserve the Emirates Pavilion penthouse for Sierra of Victor starting yesterday," Scotty explained.

"Da," Pavel agreed. "Copy that. Give me six minutes."

"Roger that. Contact when accomplished. Mike out." Scotty focused on the others. "We'll land the shuttle on the helicopter pad. By the time they realize what's going on, it will be too late."

"Right right," Kameer agreed.

"I will drive the vehicle into the city," Spock said.

Selema shook her head briefly at that. "You need an …ostentatious car. You must arrive in style."

"I agree," Samantha said. "We have a Rolls at Rendezvous Seagull. I'll come with you."

Spock did not respond but silently appraised her clothing.

"I didn't say I'd come to the Pavilion," Samantha said with a mix of exasperation and humor. "Just to the rendezvous."

"Very well," Spock said.

"What will you do then?" Selema asked her.

"Drive the ATV into town," Samantha said.

"I'd feel better if you went in with him," Kameer said to Samantha. "Spock's not a trained professional."

"Do you have other apparel which would be appropriate for those renting the penthouse?" Spock asked her.

She considered that. "Yes. Or Montgomery could go as your bodyguard slash chauffer."

"Aye, that'll work," Scotty said. "_And_ you are certified to pilot the shuttle."

"I am. Do you know where Rendezvous Seagull is?" Samantha asked.

At Scotty's negative response, Samantha explained how to get there and where to find the car. "I will alert Seagull that you are coming. A chauffer outfit?"

"Aye. That'll do it," Scotty said. He activated his comm when it beeped. "Mike Sierra."

"Sierra of Victor has the penthouse for two veeks beginning yesterday," Pavel said.

"Roger that. Appreciate your help," Scotty said.

"Anything else ve can do for you?" Pavel asked, his concern coming across the miles.

"Stay in contact with Charlie Papa. He'll know."

"Copy that," Pavel said. "Charlie out."

"Mike out," Scotty said, disconnecting. "It will take 12 minutes for us to get Seagull. 10 minutes to change. 8 minutes to arrive at the Pavilion. Plan to land on the helicopter pad in 36 minutes."

"Right," Samantha agreed. "36 minutes."

"You ready?" Scotty asked Spock. Spock nodded, following Scotty to the ATV. He reluctantly donned the helmet Scotty gave him, pretending he did not feel ridiculous wearing it. But as the ATV was open to the sky and elements, he completely understood the reasoning behind the precaution.


	28. Kevetdutar Spock of Vulcan

_"You have plenty of courage, I am sure," answered Oz. "… There is no living thing that is not afraid when it faces danger. The true courage is in facing danger when you are afraid, and that kind of courage you have in plenty." ~ _L. Frank Baum

* * *

Exactly 32 minutes after they left Bunker Hill, Scotty pulled the gigantic Rolls in front of the Pavilion. He was dressed exactly as a chauffer should be, complete with flat black hat which he tipped as he opened the car door so that Kevet-dutar Spock of Vulcan could exit.

Spock did not spare Scotty a glance as he strode into the Pavilion, an air of superiority surrounding him more fully than the glittering silver and black cape he had assumed with his new title. Spock went directly to the discreet counter labeled "Diplomats / Emissaries." He stopped several feet short of the actual counter, turning to look down his aristocratic nose at Scotty. Scotty hurried up to the counter, his body language displaying the acknowledgment of his error in keeping the Ambassador waiting.

"Sir," the middle aged middle eastern man said to Scotty when he stood just in front of the counter. The man, whose name tag read Jamal, looked past Scotty, taking in Spock, his eyes widening in surprise. Or possibly apprehension. "In what manner may we assist you?"

"Kevet-dutar Spock has reserved the penthouse," Scotty said in a tone that clearly implied they should have known that before they even asked.

"I… there…. an error has been made," Jamal said, shaking his head.

"An error?" Scotty said, glancing anxiously over his shoulder. "The penthouse is not ready for the Kevet-dutar?"

"The penthouse is not available to the Ambassador," Jamal reluctantly stated.

Spock barely looked effected by the news as he approached the desk and the nearly quivering man. "I have the penthouse reserved," Spock said in a tone that indicated that he could _own_ the penthouse if he decided that's what he wanted.

"Sir," Jamal responded, looking over his own shoulder. "The penthouse is occupied."

"That is not possible," Spock informed him evenly. "I have it reserved for the next two weeks. I had intended to arrive yesterday and was delayed."

Jamal shook his head, a line of sweat popping out on his upper lip. "Wait, please, Ambassador. I will return shortly."

Spock raised one imperious eyebrow, scanning the opulent lobby with an expression of utter disdain and clear dismissal. He stood completely still, his hands clasped behind his back as he waited.

"I'm so sorry, Ambassador," Scotty said, wringing his hands. "I should have double-checked."

"Yes you should have," Spock responded in as haughty a voice as anyone had ever heard. It practically dripped ice onto the immaculate marble floor. He watched impassively as another, older man approached the counter.

"Ambassador," the second man said. His name tag read Umar Khalif, General Manager.

"Yes," Spock acknowledged, studying the man with dangerously dark eyes.

"There has been some error," Khalif said.

"On your part," Spock said in a cold voice.

"Quite possibly. However, the penthouse is not available."

"Because I have it reserved," Spock said.

"We have no record of your reservation," Khalif told him regretfully.

Spock snapped his fingers and Scotty produced a tidy index card on which was written a confirmation number. Scotty handed the card to Khalif who accepted it, his eyes widening. He showed it to the first man who shook his head and pulled out a tray which contained a keyboard. He typed in the confirmation, his eyes growing even wider at the results.

"He has a reservation," Scotty insisted, sounding much braver when addressing the men behind the counter.

"I am unable to explain," Khalif said. "The penthouse is occupied."

Spock looked down his nose at the manager and turned for the bank of elevators, Scotty trailing behind. Scotty punched the _up_ button, Khalif stopping abruptly next to them.

"Ambassador, you cannot go up to the penthouse," Khalif said, shaking his head.

"I have it reserved," Spock said as if that explained everything.

"Sir," Khalif protested, standing between Spock and the open lift doors. "You cannot go up to the penthouse."

"I have it reserved," Spock repeated, brushing past him to enter. Khalif followed him on, protesting that it was not possible. He could not go up. He could not enter. As soon as Scotty was on the elevator and the doors were closed, Spock rendered Khalif unconscious with barely an effort.

"Nicely done," Scotty said in admiration.

"There is much to be said for utilizing the Vulcan nerve pinch," Spock agreed, discarding the oversized cloak that had added to his aura. "Can you override the controls so that we can reach the penthouse?"

"Aye. That I can," Scotty said, opening the access panel and checking the wiring. He selected the ones he needed, detaching and reattaching them. "Now they can't override from security."

"Well done," Spock said with a nod. "Do you know if the shuttle has arrived?"

Scotty took out his comm to check their ETA. "Thirty seconds till they land."

Spock nodded at that, looking at the indicator that was slowly getting closer to the top floor. There was a brief lurch as the elevator slowed but then resumed its trip up. Spock raised one eyebrow to Scotty who smirked, just a little.

"They canna override it," Scotty said in satisfaction.

As soon as the elevator stopped on the top floor, they exited, phasers drawn. The elevator deposited them directly into the foyer of the penthouse, huge sliding glass doors opposite that displayed the shuttle which was just landing. Selema, Samantha, and Kameer disembarked and approached the glass door to silently open it. They also had their phasers drawn. Spock indicated the hallway to their left, Kameer nodding and taking the lead.

Using his phaser Kameer quickly dispatched the one man in the corridor. The now unconscious man had been guarding two closed wooden doors. One of the doors had a large window through which they could see Leonard secured to a chair, his nose and mouth covered in blood. He was talking to the short, round man standing in front of him. Whatever he said was not what the man in the black and purple _thobe_ wanted to hear. It earned Leonard a fist to the jaw.

That was enough for them to see. Kameer kicked the door open, shooting the man who was about to hit Leonard again. Selema took care of one of the other guards who looked shocked before he fell to the floor. The third guard raised his hands, babbling in Arabic.

"He surrenders," Kameer said. "Don't shoot."

Spock did not hear him. He could only focus on Jim who was unconscious, suspended by his bleeding wrists. Spock approached slowly, scared that they were too late. He only began to breathe again when Jim moaned very quietly.

"He ain't dead," Leonard said from his chair where Kameer and Samantha were working on opening the handcuffs. Once they were off his wrists, he darted over to stand before Jim. The handcuffs were used to secure the guard they had left conscious. "But he's badly hurt."

Spock nodded, one hand tentatively touching Jim's bruised and swollen face.

"We've got to go," Kameer said in some urgency.

"It won't take long for reinforcements to arrive," Scotty agreed. "Can Jim be moved safely?"

"We have to get him down before I'll know," Leonard said, looking over his shoulder. "Selema and… that other woman guarding the door?"

"They are," Kameer said. "Do you know where Sam is?"

"He was still in the restaurant when they nabbed us," Leonard said, helping Scotty open the locks that secured Jim to the equipment. "I don't know what happened to him after that."

Kameer nodded, helping them detach Jim from the equipment. Spock moved behind Jim's limp body, holding him close as he was freed. At Leonard's instruction, Spock slowly sat on the floor, Jim held securely against his chest.

"Leonard?" Kameer asked in urgency.

"Hold on. I know we've got to go," Leonard said, carefully feeling the more obvious damage to Jim's body.

"Can we move him?" Scotty asked.

"I'd rather we didn't. But I know that's not possible," Leonard said. "If I can find my clothes we can go."

Spock cradled Jim in his arms as Leonard hastily found his clothes. As he was putting on his shoes, they heard Jim moan and stir.

"You are safe, Jim," Spock said quietly into his ear. "We have you."

"Pock?" Jim whispered through swollen and bleeding lips. "Whaa?"

"We have you, Jim. You are going to be all right."

"…ones?" he asked, trying to get his eyes to focus enough to find Leonard.

"I'm right here, kid," Leonard said, squatting before him and putting a hand gently on his cheek. "I'm okay."

"Sure?" Jim asked, squinting past the swelling of his eyes.

"I'm sure. We're going to get you out of here."

Jim nodded, taking as deep a breath as he could manage, coughing as a result. "Hurts."

"I know, kid. I know. As soon as we are on the shuttle, I can help you with the pain."

Jim squeezed his eyes as tightly closed as he could, nodding once. "Pock?"

"Yes, Jim?" Spock said, one arm carefully and gently wrapped around Jim's stomach to hold him close.

"You're here," Jim said in surprise, squinting his eyes open to look at Leonard. "He here?"

"Yeah, kid. Spock's here. He's got you," Leonard said, caressing his cheek. "Don't worry about anything. We're getting you out."

Jim nodded, relaxing back against Spock and surrendering to blissful unconsciousness.

Spock easily picked Jim up, trying to cradle him to minimize the movement to his injuries but they were so numerous, he could not stop from inflicting unintentional pain to him. Jim moaned very quietly several times, shifting in Spock's arms as he carried him to the shuttle. "You are safe, Jim. No more harm will come to you," Spock said in a soothing voice as they entered the shuttle.

Once everyone was on board, Leonard secured Jim to one of the bunks, letting Scotty know they could take off. As they became airborne, Leonard retrieved the medical bag from its secure compartment. The movement of the shuttle roused Jim who slowly and painfully opened one eye.

"…ones?" he whispered.

"I'm right here, darlin'," Leonard said squatting next to his head so Jim could see him.

"Will I live?" Jim asked softly.

"Of course," Leonard assured him, his thumb sweeping Jim's furrowed eyebrows. "You're way too stubborn to let those men win."

"Mmm…" Jim sighed, letting his eyes drift closed. "Can we get a dog?"

Leonard had to laugh softly at the very quiet question. "Yeah, kid. We can get you a dog when we get home."

"Kay. Good. Pock here?"

"I am, Jim," Spock said, touching Jim's bruised cheek very gently. "I will stay as long as you need me."

"Kay," Jim whispered, barely opening one eye to look at Leonard. "Hurts."

"I know, darlin'. I have something to take care of it," Leonard promised.

Jim nodded once, closing his eyes again. He made no reaction as Leonard gave him the injection that would temporarily relieve his pain and render him unconscious for the rest of the trip out of Rahth Mutadaffaq

Spock sat by Jim's head, wanting – needing to touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin under his palm. But he would not risk interfering with Leonard's work. Leonard was carefully touching each part of Jim's battered body, occasionally eliciting a groan from the unconscious man.

"Doctor?" Spock asked in request. The tone of his voice attracted Leonard's attention.

"You want to know?" Leonard asked quietly.

"Please," Spock said, almost reluctant to hear. But he needed to understand.

"His right shoulder is hyper-extended. His left is dislocated. I'm pretty sure he has several fractured ribs. His sternum is bruised and possibly fractured. His jaw may be dislocated but there's so much swelling I can't be sure. His nose is probably broken – again. The last two fingers of his left hand are fractured. I'm sure there are some internal injuries but I won't know how serious until we are in the hospital where I can examine him properly."

"His head?" Spock asked, indicating the bloody tee shirt still wrapped around his skull.

"It's not nearly as serious as it looks. They broke open his scalp and it always bleeds a…" His explanation was interrupted when the shuttle suddenly lurched to the left, Leonard ending up flat on his butt. "What the hell, Scotty?"

"Sorry, Len. Just got word from Chris. We canna land in Bahegmha Smhasahe. He thinks they compromised the mission."

"Good God," Leonard said. "Give a man a little warning."

"Next time," Scotty called back. "How's Jim?"

"Like you'd expect. Where are we going?"

"Prince Sultan Air Force Base. We'll arrive in 16 minutes," Scotty said.

"Does Chris know where Sam is?" Selema asked from her seat behind Kameer.

"Sam called in. He was attempting to follow the Sheik's men and vaulted a wall. When he landed, he broke his ankle," Kameer said, turning around to explain.

"Where is he now?" Selema asked in concern.

"Chris said Sam's on his way to the base. Member of the Consortium is bringing him in for medical care," Kameer said.

"How did this mission go south?" Samantha asked no one in particular. It was a question to which they all wanted an answer.


	29. Ice, Milkshakes, and Pepsi

_To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you_. ~Lewis B. Smedes

* * *

_Okay,_ Jim thought to himself, his internal communications slowed by the pain that was engulfing him. _I'm pretty sure I'm safe. I'm in a lot of pain which seems normal. Maybe if I open my eyes…really, really slowly, the room won't be spinning around me._ He gave the 'opening my eyes' thing a try, discovering that it applied in the singular. His right eye would open, just barely. His left not at all. He did know better than to try and move any other part of his body. That would not go well. Deciding his head didn't really count, he very slowly turned it to his right. If the idea itself didn't hurt to consider, he would have smiled. There was Spock, all curled up in a overstuffed chair, a fuzzy blue blanket draped haphazardly over him, his usually immaculate hair standing up in places.

Talking was out of the question, Jim knew. And his mouth felt funny. Not the usual _I've been unconscious and birds built a nest in mouth_ funny. Metallic and… stiff. Stiffer than usual. He gave a try at opening his mouth wider than it was already and discovered it was impossible. _Wired shut_ he realized. _Crap. I hate it when that happens._

He contemplated what other injuries he had sustained besides a broken jaw, closing his right eye to do inventory. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea. Considering his injuries seemed to make them flair in pain.

He reopened his right eye, staring at Spock, willing him to wake up_. The windows behind Spock are dark so that must mean it's the middle of the night_, Jim decided. The lamp beside his bed cast a soft glow over the sleeping Vulcan.

He ideally wondered how many hours had passed since the beat-down he'd gotten from the Sheik's henchmen but he had absolutely no way of knowing.

Finally, Spock stirred and looked over at the bed, his mouth nearly curving into a smile when he saw Jim was awake.

"Welcome back," Spock said in a soft, warm voice.

Jim nodded as much as he could. This not being able to talk thing was _such_ a pain. Well, pain was his entire world at the moment. So maybe huge inconvenience was a more apt description.

"I will alert Leonard," Spock said as he slowly stood. He put one hand gently on Jim's right shoulder, looking down at him with a surprisingly tender expression. "We won't be long."

Jim thought he nodded again but he couldn't be entirely sure. The pain was weighing him down, his thought-processes having to swim up-stream against it. It was a slow go and the pain was much stronger than his brain at the moment.

"Hey kid," Bones' familiar, comforting voice said softly into his ear. Jim laboriously turned his head so that he could squint at his friend. "Not feeling so great, huh?"

Jim shook his head once. Any more and the consequences would be dire and disgusting.

"Besides the pain, how are you?" Bones asked gently.

How to explain? He made himself lift his right hand, left conveniently out from under the covers, swirling one finger in the air. His left hand was immobile and apparently unavailable for his use.

"Dizzy?" Bones guessed.

Jim nodded.

"Understandable. Okay. I'll fix that too. Are you breathing okay?"

Jim considered the question. With Bones' question, there was a fresh surge of pain caused by each breath he took. It stemmed out from the center of his chest and spread across his front, down his sides. He shook his head once.

"All right, darlin'," Bones said. "I'll get you some oxygen. That will help your breathing and your dizziness."

Now that it was out of his hands, he let his eyes close back, relaxing in the knowledge that the pain would stop and Bones would take care of everything else. Maybe the next time he woke up, he'd be able to tell Bones how thirsty he was. _Yeah. That'd be good_.

~o0o~

The next time he surfaced through the waves of pain crashing over him, the room was way too bright, making his headache go supernova. Squeezing his eyes closed helped a little but the light still leaked in around the edges. Giving his right hand an experimental try, he managed to bring it up to his face and almost found his eyes to cover them.

"I'm sorry," Bones drawled. From the thickness of his accent, Jim could guess he hadn't slept in quite some time. It didn't take long for the lights to dim to a tolerable level and Jim worked to open his eyes. Again, only his right eye would cooperate. Bones was standing right where Jim could see him, leaning over the metal guardrails of the bed. "I won't ask how you're doing since you can't talk. In answer to the usual series of questions you have when you regain consciousness – you've been in the hospital for two and a half days. I'm sure the pointy-eared hobgoblin can tell you to the minute. He's asleep in officers' quarters right now, finally. I threatened to sedate him if he didn't leave to sleep. I had your jaw wired shut as a precaution. We can cut those wires in another two days. But the abuse you took loosened some of the teeth on your left side. The braces will hold them secure while they heal. They should be able to come off in a month or so."

Jim blinked at the information. He needed Bones to wait while he absorbed it. Closing his eyes stopped Bones from speaking until he was ready for more. Not that what he'd heard was at all surprising. Well, that part about Spock staying with him for two days – _that_ was surprising. He finally allowed his right eye open to study Bones, who he realized had two very black eyes. Not that he hadn't earned them.

"You ready?" Bones asked, rubbing over the stubble covering Jim's head.

That sensation was new. He looked up and tilted his head slightly.

"Oh. Yeah. We shaved your head. You had two deep lacerations. They took a total of 15 stitches to close. There was so much blood matted in your hair, we had to shave it off." Jim used some secret reserve of strength to frown at that. Great. A man is knocked unconscious and his _friend_ shaves his head while he's in no position to protest. "It'll grow back, infant," Bones said fondly, touching his bare head again.

Jim considered that and understood it was both necessary and the least of his problems. Lifting his right hand slowly, he managed to spell out _w-a-t-e-r _in sign language.

"You can have a few bits of cracked ice," Bones agreed. He reached over for the pitcher by the bed and shook a couple of chips into a cup. He very carefully held the cup to Jim's split and swollen lips, letting him take them in at his own pace.

_y-o-u_ Jim spelled slowly.

"I'm fine. The black eyes are the worst of it. Chris says they make me look rugged. Or some such crap," Bones said with a shrug.

_h-o-m-e_

"Another few days and we'll talk about flying home. You couldn't stand the trip yet."

_d-o-d _Jim spelled.

"Dod?" Bones asked with a frown. "Oh. Dog. Yeah. I promised," he laughed. "We'll get a dog as soon as you are up to looking for one."

_i-c-e _

Bones nodded and gave him a few more slivers, watching his face carefully. "Better?"

Jim blinked in acknowledgement, not trying to communicate in any other way. It frankly took way more effort than he had to expend.

"Do you want me to sedate you?" Bones asked gently.

Jim had no choice but to agree. The pain was not going to diminish – not yet anyway. And he'd rather not be awake while he waited. He barely saw Bones put the sedative into the IV that trailed into his right arm before he was blissfully unaware once more.

~o0o~

"I still don't understand why you came," came Bones' voice from somewhere to Jim's left. It didn't have quite as thick an accent so he must have slept recently.

"Because you were walking into a trap," Spock's voice responded, sounding _almost_ annoyed.

"You could have commed us. Called us. Texted us." Jim thought Bones was not as angry as he was…confused. Or befuddled.

"It was entirely possible that all of your communications were being intercepted," Spock's voice said evenly. Jim heard Bones sigh at that before glancing over at Jim.

"Hey," Bones said, coming closer to the bed, smiling down at Jim.

"Jim," Spock added, nearly sighing in relief.

He looked up at them, glad of their presence. It was immensely comforting that they were both there to watch over him. Once he could talk, he'd have to remember to tell them how much he appreciated it.

His right eye widened as much as it could when he heard his mother's voice. Was he hallucinating? Those fears were waylaid when her face appeared in his field of vision.

"Jimmy," she said, looking down at him, her eyes suspiciously wet. He wished he could offer her some comfort but he was not in a position to be able to at the moment.

He finally managed to lift his right hand to spell out _hello_ making those standing over him smile.

"I was so worried about you, darling," his mother said, gently caressing his bare head.

_S-o-r-r-r-y._

She shook her head at that. "You don't have any reason to be," she assured him.

He nodded once, slowly spelling _i-c-e._ Bones promptly provided him with several slivers, Jim sucking on them in relief. He realized belatedly that Bones was talking to him. What was it he was saying while he was enjoying the comfort of a wet mouth? He focused as well as he could on Bones' face which had an expectant expression in place.

_W-h-a-t_.

"I asked if you wanted to try sitting up for a few minutes," Bones said warmly.

Jim shook his head. That was out of the question right now. Everything still hurt too much. From the top of his head down to his toes. Well, not his feet as much as his torso. Every part of him above his hips.

"All right. We'll try that later," Bones assured him. "Do you want more ice?"

Jim nodded, taking them in gratefully. Who knew that simple ice would be what kept him motivated to stay awake? He'd never take water for granted again. _S-p-o-c-k._

"I am right here," Spock said, returning to Jim's field of vision. Jim nodded once, closing his eyes now that he knew Spock was still there. It didn't take long for darkness to take back over, unconsciousness a relief from the effort of trying to fight the pain.

~o0o~

"Jim," someone was saying from way too far away. Who was that and why were they bothering him? Couldn't they see he was sleeping? Who would be so rude as to wake a sleeping man? "Jim," the voice said even more insistently.

He reluctantly responded to the desires of the voice and opened his eyes. Both of them, he noted mentally. That was a good thing.

When his two eyes were able to focus, he found Bones and Chris Pike in his field of vision. "Uhn?" Jim grunted, hoping he was frowning. He thought he might have succeeded when Bones smiled at him.

"You've been asleep for nearly 18 hours, you infant. Wake up and rejoin the living."

Jim shook his head once, lifting it very carefully to see if he could tell who else was there.

"Spock is sleeping. Winona is getting something to eat," Bones said in answer to the question he didn't have the reserves to ask.

_How long _Jim spelled slowly.

"You've been here for four and a half days," Bones told him. "If you can stay awake long enough, I want to take the wires out so you can at least talk."

Jim made the sign for "k," Bones nodding. "I'm going to lift the top of your bed. If it gets to be too much, let me know. Sitting up will make your breathing a little easier too."

Jim nodded, waiting as Bones activated the mechanics to slowly lift the top portion of the bed. As it rose, Jim could see Chris watching him. _Hey_ Jim spelled, Chris smiling at that.

"Good to see you doing better," Chris said. "You had us a little worried."

Jim shrugged his right shoulder, making it twinge in pain. But nothing like it had felt.

"There," Bones said when Jim's head was elevated. "How does that feel?"

Jim nodded. It did relieve some of the pressure in his chest, making it feel less like there was a truck parked right in the middle. The oxygen was also helping, he knew.

"I'm going to check your jaw. Let me know if it gets to be too much," Bones said as he dried his hands. "Okay?"

Jim nodded waiting as Bones gently felt his jaw and down his neck, speaking quietly the entire time. It didn't make any difference to Jim what Bones was saying. He wasn't asking any questions so no response was required. And Jim found the sound of his voice immensely comforting.

"All right," Bones said, straightening. "We can take the wire off to free your mouth."

Jim waited because there was nothing which he needed to do but be a good patient.

"I'll be right back," Bones told him before leaving his room. Jim turned his focus on Chris who winked at him.

"He promised me you'd live," Chris said, his warm hand on Jim's right arm. "He also said you'll be out of commission for a couple of months. Make sure everything heals correctly."

_Dog_ Jim spelled, Chris laughing.

"He told me. If you hadn't been beaten so badly, he wouldn't have agreed," Chris teased.

_Go me._

Chris could only shake his head with a laugh. "Winona is going to stay with you for a little while. Make sure you do as Leonard tells you."

_Double teamed._

"Only way they can be sure you'll behave," Chris agreed.

Jim one shoulder shrugged again, looking over at the door when Bones entered with a stout man in a white lab coat who had about him the air of a doctor.

"This is Dr. Qasem," Bones said. "He's the dentist that put on your braces and wired shut your mouth."

Jim nodded, spelling _thanks_ which Bones relayed to Dr. Qasem.

"You are most welcome," Dr. Qasem said. "The braces will need to be on for three months, to make sure your teeth are healed."

Jim glared at Bones who had blatantly lied to him. He was in so much trouble once Jim could talk.

"He told me weeks, not months," Bones protested, winking at Dr. Qasem when he glanced over his shoulder at Leonard.

"At any rate," Dr. Qasem said with a chuckle. "I can remove the wires. That will allow you to drink and eat."

Jim nodded at that. _Talk._

"On second thought," Chris laughed. "Leave the wires on."

Jim frowned at Chris, making him laugh harder.

"Your mouth is going to be understandably stiff so take it easy when I have them off," Dr. Qasem instructed. With that, Dr. Qasem reached over for a small pair of pliers, reaching into Jim's mouth to snip the wires. It only took a few minutes for all the wires to be cut and removed. Dr. Qasem massaged Jim's jaws with warm gentle hands, helping to loosen the stiffness. "Better?"

"Bedda," Jim agreed, tentatively opening and closing his mouth. "Much bedda."

"Good," Dr. Qasem said. "You want to avoid solid food for the next several days. Soup, ice cream, oatmeal - until your teeth are more secure."

"Coffee?" Jim asked.

They all laughed at that. "Dr. McCoy said that would be the first thing you requested," Dr. Qasem said with a smile. "As long as it is not too hot."

"Can I brush my teef?" Jim asked hopefully. The taste left over was…just gross.

"Not yet. I will get you some mouthwash. Not as good but you need to wait with brushing for another day," Dr. Qasem said.

"Okay," Jim agreed.

"Besides coffee, what do you want?" Bones asked him as Dr. Qasem left the room.

"A milkshake," Jim said.

"Of course," Bones agreed.

"I'll go to the base ice cream shop," Chris said. "Coffee shake?"

"Yes please," Jim agreed. "What time is it?"

"It's 2:43 here," Bones said.

"How long has Spock been gone?"

"I sent him to sleep four hours ago," Bones said, unnecessarily straightening Jim's covers. "I predict he'll be back pretty soon. Are you going to talk to him?"

"Eventually. Not yet. It's too much effort right now."

"Yeah. I get that," Bones agreed. "Now that you can actually talk, is there anything I need to take care of that I missed?"

"Everything hurts but no more than I expect. You did your usual great job."

"I've had plenty of practice," Bones reminded him.

"When can we go home?" Jim asked, yawning but not opening his mouth as wide as he normally would.

"Another few days. I don't want to risk it yet. The change in altitude. The oxygen."

"Kay," Jim agreed, watching Dr. Qasem enter with a bottle of mouthwash and a small receptacle.

"Here you are," Dr. Qasem said, giving him some bright green mouthwash in a small cup.

Jim nodded, taking it in and swishing it around his mouth, the tingling welcome and refreshing. He spit it out, accepting water as a chaser. He swished and spit the water too.

"Better?" Dr. Qasem said.

"Better. Thank you," Jim agreed, smiling over at Chris. "Just in time."

"I live to serve," Chris said, handing Jim the milkshake.

"Take it slowly," Dr. Qasem advised. "You are going to have some soreness."

Jim sucked on the straw, enjoying the coolness of the milkshake.

"Well?" Bones asked.

"Good," Jim said, drinking more of it. "Really good."

"Unless you need me, I will take my leave," Dr. Qasem said.

"I appreciate your help," Jim said, Dr. Qasem nodding and leaving, Bones following him out. "Where's Mom?"

"She'll be here shortly. She was talking to Tahla when I chatted with her. Is there something you need?"

"Just taking inventory," Jim said, sipping the milkshake and enjoying the flavor. "What happened to the mission?"

"We still aren't sure. I've debriefed everyone but you," Chris said.

"How's Sam? Is he okay?"

"He has a broken ankle. He's still here. Everyone is. Except Scotty."

"Where's he?" Jim asked.

"I sent him home. Pavel, Hikaru and Nyota were beside themselves. They'll be here around 6," Chris said with a shake of his head.

"Oh," Jim said, watching Bones return accompanied by his mom and Spock. "Hey."

"Oh good," Winona said, kissing his head. "You can talk."

"A mixed blessing," Chris said.

"And I can eat," Jim said, holding up his milkshake. Winona pulled the blanket a little higher over his bare chest. He knew she couldn't help but fuss and figured she knew he was naked under the covers. No matter. Only Bones would move aside the blankets.

"It is a relief that you are on the mend," Spock told him, everyone agreeing with that.

"Thank you for coming. It would have turned out really badly if you hadn't," Jim said, looking at Spock's warm black eyes.

"It was quite an event," Spock said in understatement.

"That's for sure," Bones said. "I want to talk to you about accepting my resignation."

"No," Chris said when he broke off from talking to Winona.

Bones snorted at that before returning to talk to Jim and Spock. It wasn't long before Leonard realized that Jim's responses were slowing and his eyes did not want to stay open. "Jim needs to go back to sleep," Bones announced, taking the mostly empty cup from Jim's unresisting hand. "You can all come back when the boys and Nyota get here. Right now I need to see to some medical _stuff_. I'll let you know when the coast is clear."

Everyone agreed, obediently leaving and closing the door behind them. When only Bones was left in the room, he moved aside the blankets, checking Jim's body.

"Anything new?" Jim asked through half-closed eyes.

"Things are really good. Better than you by rights ought to be. You're still peeing blood," Bones said, checking the collection. "Is it hurting you?"

"No more than usual. How long before I can pee myself?" Jim asked, shifting slightly.

"Couple of days. You can't get to the bathroom. And it needs to be monitored," Bones reminded him. "You want a sedative?"

"No but I also know I don't have much choice," Jim said wearily.

"All right," Bones agreed, putting it into the IV before rearranging the covers. "I'll go get Spock if you want."

"'Kay," Jim agreed. "Can I sleep up like this?"

"Makes it easier to breathe, huh?"

"Uh huh. It's okay?"

"Of course," Bones said, making sure his pillow was in the right position.

"Quit fussin'," Jim said sleepily.

Bones laughed softly, gently patting his right shoulder before leaving to find Spock. It didn't take long for Spock to return to sit in the chair next to the bed. "I suggested to Leonard that he take this chance to sleep."

"Thanks," Jim agreed, turning his head to smile at Spock. "Would you mind talking to me?"

"Of course," Spock said automatically, wondering what he should say. Rather than consider it, he just started talking, saying whatever came into his mind. It was not something that was an ordinary Vulcan activity but Spock had the feeling that Jim would be the cause of many more un-Vulcan activities. At least Spock hoped that would be the case.

~o0o~

Jim slept soundly until the entrance of his friends woke him. He didn't mind in the least that their arrival disrupted his sleep. He was pretty sure he'd slept more during the past few days than he normally did in an entire week. He smiled as much as he could when his friends all talked to him at once. Their voices were the sweetest sounds he had heard in a very long time. Sam even hobbled into his room on crutches, his right leg in a cast up to his knee.

Pavel and Hikaru were talking over each other as they tried to tell him about their efforts to find out who had sabotaged the mission. Scotty was talking about the flights over, back, and over. They were including Spock in the conversation, just as though he had always been a part of their family. Nyota was so happy to see Leonard they quickly disappeared without so much as an apology. Well, who could blame them?

After they had been crowded into Jim's room for nearly an hour, Chris herded them out, promising that they could return in the morning. But for now they needed to settle into the rooms he had secured them and leave Jim alone.

"Do you want something to eat, sweetie?" Winona asked Jim when she and Spock were the only ones remaining.

"Mmm… I don't think so," Jim decided. "I would like a Pepsi. Think I could have some?"

"I'm sure it would be fine," Winona told him. "I'll find Leonard and double-check. And then I'll get it for you."

"Thanks," Jim agreed, watching her leave. "So…." Jim said, focusing on Spock.

"Yes," Spock said, an openly admiring gleam in his eye.

"Does this mean our fight is officially over?" Jim asked.

"I am very hopeful," Spock said. "We still have matters to discuss. However, none of them will include me passing judgment on you."

"I'm thinking it doesn't much matter any longer," Jim said. "Scotty said you were willing to kill them if you had to."

"I was. I would have. Thinking of it in the abstract is very different from seeing someone for whom you care being victimized."

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "It's very different."

"I should not have judged you without living in your shoes," Spock said.

"Most of us could say that at some time," Jim agreed. "Your parents know where you are, right?"

"They do. It was my father who warned me that the mission was in danger of failing."

"T'Pau told him?" Jim asked.

"She did. She also told Christopher but as she could not reveal her source, he could do nothing except tell me I needed to speak with my parents."

"Good thing you caught up with Scotty," Jim said.

"Did you recognize any of the men who were holding you and Leonard?" Spock asked.

"No. From the way they were dressed, I'm pretty sure they were part of Sheik Wahenrha's contingency. Have you seen Selema?"

"I have," Spock agreed. "She will come to see you when you are up to more visitors."

"And she's okay?"

"She is unharmed. Kameer prevented the men from getting to her," Spock said.

"Good," Jim said, looking over at the door as his mother entered with a glass which unmistakably held Pepsi.

"Here you are, my dear. Leonard said you should try to eat something but if you only drink the Pepsi, you'll live."

"Thanks," Jim said, accepting it to drink through the straw. "Mmm… sweet nectar of heaven."

"I thought that was coffee," Winona teased.

"It's a tie," Jim decided.

"I bet it is," Winona said. "Spock. You go eat then sleep. I'll stay with Jimmy tonight."

"I do not mind remaining," Spock assured her.

"I do know that, dear. But you've barely slept. A mom always knows if her baby needs her," she assured him.

"Mom," Jim protested, making Winona laugh.

"You'll always be my baby," she reminded him with a kiss on his bare head. "I like you bald."

He shook his head at that. "Too cold. I'm letting it grow back."

"Can't blame you," she said. "Now. Go get something to eat and get a real night's sleep."

"Yes, ma'am," Spock had to agree. After a fond word of farewell, Spock obediently left.

"He loves you enormously," Winona said to Jim.

"I think I figured that out," Jim laughed softly.

"Do you feel the same?" Winona asked. Because it was her right to know.

"I'm pretty sure. But he… well. I understand why he judged me. But that doesn't make it easier to overlook," Jim admitted.

"I know, dear. But imagine if the situation were reversed. Wouldn't you have been surprised to learn he's a hired assassin?"

"Yes," Jim sighed. "How did you feel when you first found out about dad?"

"A little like Spock felt," Winona admitted. "Falling in love. Then finding out the truth. It's unsettling."

"Yeah," Jim said.

"Will you finally be able to forgive him?" Winona asked gently.

"I don't think I need to forgive him as much as… myself?" Jim suggested.

"I think you may be right, baby," she agreed.


	30. Home Is Where The Heart Is

_Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration._ ~Charles Dickens

* * *

After another four days in the hospital on Prince Sultan Base, Leonard decided Jim was well enough to travel. Jim very much wanted to sleep in his own bed and Leonard knew he would rest much easier in their house than he had been in a strange hospital.

Chris said that Scotty would fly Jim, Leonard, and Spock home. Kameer would co-pilot. Everyone else would be flown in the smaller shuttle. Winona insisted on going on the shuttle with Jim, not that she didn't trust Leonard, but…. Chris understood and naturally agreed. Sulu would pilot the second shuttle and Selema would be his co-pilot.

"Because it's going to be very hard on you," Bones said again when Jim insisted he didn't need to be sedated for the trip home.

"I'll be fine," Jim said.

"So you're the doctor now?" Bones asked in a warning tone.

"No. I'm the patient. And I know I'm okay to fly," Jim said, looking at Spock and Chris in hopes of reinforcements. Hopes which proved to be utterly futile.

"No. You. Aren't," Bones said. "I can sedate you or we can stay here another three days. _Those_ are your choices."

"Chris," Jim said in pleading.

"I'm on Leonard's side in this. You are still having trouble breathing. You were peeing blood until yesterday. I'm sure Leonard wishes he could keep you here another three days. He also knows if he tries, you'll sneak under the cloak of darkness," Chris said. "Now be a good boy so he can sedate you and we can pull this circus train out of the station."

"Okay. Fine," Jim conceded. He rolled onto his side away from Bones who lowered the pajama bottoms Jim had only started wearing the day before. He inhaled sharply when Bones gave him the shot, rolling back over to frown at Bones.

"Those men beat the living tar out of you and you never said a word. I give you a shot and your pride is wounded," Bones said in exasperation.

"Shut up," Jim responded, accepting Bones' help out of the bed and into the waiting wheelchair. Jim's left arm was still bound to his body to help the dislocation heal, his over-sized pajama top buttoned over his chest.

"You see what he's really like," Bones said to Spock once Jim was settled, a blanket over his lap. "It's not too late for you to run away."

"It is far too late," Spock said, making Jim smile up at him.

"Fine," Bones snorted, pushing Jim out of the room and down the corridor. He was able to wheel the chair directly onto the van waiting to take them the short distance to the shuttle. He knew that by the time they arrived, Jim would be out for the count which was just as well.

When they got to the hanger, Jim was, as predicted, gone to the world. Spock easily picked him up out of the wheelchair to carry him onto shuttle _Padema_, placing him carefully on the bunk. Bones covered Jim with a warm blanket and strapped him in. Winona was already in the shuttle with Scotty, making sure they had everything they needed for the trip home. Not that she didn't trust the Consortium. But Jim was her little boy and she was going to make sure he was well cared-for on the trip over.

Once Bones gave Scotty the okay and everyone was buckled in their seats, Scotty and Kameer lifted the shuttle out of the hanger, flying effortlessly back to the States.

In a rare exception to their strict rules, the Consortium had granted them permission to temporarily land shuttle _Padema_ on the beach in front of Jim and Bones' house rather than the airfield. When they were safely down, Spock carried Jim into the house and directly into his bedroom, where he deposited him gently onto his bed. Everyone left Bones to see to Jim, going into the kitchen for something to eat and to watch the shuttle leave the beach as Scotty flew it to the hanger.

As soon as Bones appeared in the kitchen, Winona went into Jim's room, needing to see for herself that he was okay. She knew he was but seeing him, touching him was more important than hearing it from Leonard.

"How's he doing?" Chris asked when Leonard was sitting at the table between Nyota and Spock.

"Sound asleep. He should wake up in another hour. I propped him up so his breathing will be easier," Leonard said, accepting more tea from Chekov.

"Good," Chris said with a nod. "When he wakes up, you're going to bed." Chris held up one hand, forestalling the protests. "No arguments. It won't help Jim one bit if you wear yourself completely out worrying about him."

Leonard stared at Chris a few stern seconds before glancing at Nyota. "Will you tuck me in?"

She giggled at that, leaning closer to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear. Whatever she said was the right thing because his frown was turned magically into a smile, one that telegraphed her agreement to his invitation.

Kameer watched the interactions of everyone at the table, understanding why Jim and Leonard's house had become a gathering place. It felt warm and comfortable and like _home_ even though it was his first visit. And he was grateful for the opportunity to be included.

He looked at all those eating and talking and enjoying their own company. Selema was debating with Hikaru about the relative merits of one type of sword versus another. Kameer had no idea what they were really talking about and a glance at Chekov confirmed that he didn't either. Pavel had a little better idea but confided to Kameer that he was glad that Karu could argue with Selema and leave him out of it.

Scotty, when he got back from the hanger, looked tired but in a comfortable, _everybody's-where-they-belong_ way. As though he could finally stand down. Kameer predicted it wouldn't be long before Scotty was fast asleep. Either on Jim's floor or the couch from what he had heard from others.

Leonard and Nyota were continuing to flirt with each other, both their faces lit with the unmistakable glow of reunited lovers. Not that they had been apart the entire time. But they finally had the chance to talk without focusing on Jim or the mission or anything but each other.

Winona, once she returned from Jim's room, kept busy making sure everyone had enough to eat. She seemed to be able to make food appear out of thin air which was greatly appreciated by all. Chris was helping her, or talking to her while she cooked. Kameer had never had much opportunity to spend time with Chris outside of official duties and enjoyed this opportunity to see The Boss as a regular guy in jeans and a flannel shirt, barefoot in the kitchen scrambling eggs. He knew that Chris was one of the reasons that the Consortium was never short members. Chris could sell ice to the Eskimos and Kameer absolutely believed the stories he had heard that Chris actually had done it.

Kameer caught Spock watching him watching everyone else and Kameer smiled with a tiny shrug.

"It is quite fascinating," Spock confirmed quietly.

"I've heard about it for a long time," Kameer said. "I've never seen it."

"I have not spent a great deal of time here. However, I do know that it is a gathering place. One that this appreciated by all those who come."

"Once you live here, will you change it?" Kameer asked, suddenly realizing how inappropriate that question was. "Oh God. I'm so sorry."

Spock shook his head, a tiny smile playing at his lips. "You do not need to apologize. While Jim and I have not yet discussed any long term plans, should I be invited to move in with him, I would never allow anything to disrupt the love that is to be found here."

Kameer nodded at that. "Is it true that Chillie Waters' wife and children visit?"

"It is my understand. I have not met them," Spock said. "You are a fan of the Ice Floes?"

"Totally. They rock the most. You?" Kameer asked, pretty sure he knew the answer.

"Of all the rock bands with which I am familiar, they are the most talented," Spock said, making Kameer laugh.

"Is that a yes?"

Spock just raised one eyebrow at him and Kameer knew not to ask again. Not that Spock would mind but he wasn't going to get a different answer so what would be the point?

"Have you known Jim for a long time?" Spock asked him as they left the dining room for the living room, Winona insisting that she and Chris would take care of the kitchen. Chris didn't seem quite as certain but Winona was a force to be reckoned with and he capitulated gracefully.

"Six years," Kameer said. "I apprenticed with him."

"An apprenticeship is required upon entering the Consortium?" Spock asked.

"Always. Make sure you keep your head about you. Follow protocol. It lasts between a year and eighteen months, depending on how well you do, how many missions you are assigned."

"What do you do when you are not active with the Consortium?" Spock asked, finding the other man quite interesting and very lively. Not as lively as Jim but with a spark of life he very much appreciated.

"I write fortunes for fortune cookies. I know," he laughed when Spock looked at him skeptically. "It's weird. But somebody has to come up with those funny and strange sayings. I also write greeting card verses. I don't like doing that as much. And the fact is, the Consortium pays us all enough that we don't have to work. Most of us do to keep busy between missions. Selema makes beautiful stained glass. Hikaru works for Jim. Sam Giotto works for Chris."

"Montgomery?" Spock asked.

"He does work for Jim. And Chris. He's everybody's handyman. I'm pretty sure he doesn't accept payment for any of the work he does but he doesn't care. As he always says, as long as he has scotch to drink and place to lay his head, everything else will take care of itself."

"Very wise," Spock said.

"You're thinking of joining, aren't you?" Kameer asked, studying Spock as he studied those around them.

"I am considering it," Spock admitted, briefly wondering why he had decided to confide to Kameer what he had not yet told anyone else.

"You'd be great," Kameer said. "You were great. Scotty told me how you were during the rescue. He thinks you have to do it."

"I am flattered," Spock said with a nod.

"What will Clan Shi'Kahr say about you joining?" Kameer asked. "If it's not too personal of me to inquire."

"As I have not discussed the possibility, I have no way of predicting," Spock said. He knew that was not entirely true but as he was not at liberty to tell the complete truth, it would serve. "Do you live close to here?"

"I live in Bartaville. It's convenient to the Consortium headquarters and airfield," Kameer said.

"Are you married?" Spock asked because it was a polite thing to do. At least he hoped it was polite. Sometimes the finer points of Human interactions still eluded him.

"I'm not. Not yet. I'm engaged to Nadia Faraj. She is a researcher at the labs where Sam Giotto's wife works."

"That is how you became acquainted?"

"Of course," Kameer laughed. "Denise had been determined to fix us up. Sam tried to stop her but, well, she's a woman of focus."

"I have met her once," Spock said. "She has a delightful personality."

"She'd have to, to put up with Sam," Kameer laughed like it was a long standing joke. Spock knew he didn't mean anything by it and inquired about Sam's ankle. They continued to chat quite comfortably, discussing topics of no importance at all.

~o0o~

Even before he was completely awake, Jim smiled. He was laying in his own bed, in his own house. Nothing like it. He allowed his eyes to open as they would, glad that the first thing he saw was the ocean out the wide window on the opposite wall of his room. That was a welcome sight at any time. He could vaguely hear the voices of his friends in the living room, a warm and comforting sound. He tried unsuccessfully to decide how many were there but gave up as he realized it made no difference at all.

He knew that he had not been left alone the entire time he slept. Though he had slept very soundly, he had felt the presence of Bones and his mother, at the very least. He knew equally well that it wouldn't be long before someone came to check on him. Nothing was required of him until then and not even after that. He only had to lay and wait and hopefully someone would arrive with Pepsi. Or something to eat. That would be good too.

As he waited, he considered the state of his body. Everything still hurt but not in the intense _for God's sake when is it going to stop?_ pain that had been ever-present since his encounter with the thugs. His chest hurt the most at the moment, a severely bruised sternum a new entry in his ever expanding ledger of injuries. And it just sucked. Having a bruised sternum made it hard to breathe, to sit up by himself, and if he had to cough, the pain was excruciating. Broken ribs were a cakewalk compared to this bruised sternum.

Broken ribs, a separated shoulder, and fractured fingers were a new combination. Having his left hand and arm taped tight to his chest helped all of the injuries but _oh _the itching. He'd pay really good money for the chance to scratch his chest and his left armpit. Not exactly something you could ask anyone, not even your best friend. There was a limit to what Jim would request even of Bones.

He ran his tongue over the braces holding his sore teeth in place. They didn't hurt like they had right after the beat-down. Now they just ached in the background. It wasn't the first time he'd had braces put on but he thought they'd be on longer this time than they ever had been before. His only possible concern about his braces was in connection to kissing Spock. Because he really did want to kiss him. And be kissed by him. And do other things to Spock that might be more difficult with the presence of the hardware in his mouth. Like those things they did before Spock had his Vulcan version of a freak-out. That was something Jim probably didn't really need to ever say to Spock. He would ask him how he felt about kissing a man with braces. Hopefully he was willing to learn if he had never done it before.

More than anything, more than even Pepsi, what he wanted was to take a shower. Having his head shaved meant that he didn't have to worry about terminal greasy bed-head but a shower was his current goal. He ideally wondered what the chances were that Bones would allow it. Even a quick bath. Surely he would be able to soak in his tub for a little while. All the bandages were off except the ones around his ribs holding his left hand and shoulder secure. It wouldn't hurt his shoulder to release it while he was in the tub, right? If there was a God, Jim felt certain Bones would agree to a bath.

Not many minutes elapsed before Jim felt Bones' presence in the doorway. He turned enough to smile at him, getting a return smile.

"How are you, kid?" Bones asked, coming in to sit on his bed.

"Good. Thanks for letting me come home," Jim said.

"You'll sleep better. I know that. What do you want to eat?"

"Can I take a bath? Please?" Jim asked.

Bones considered the question, putting his palm on Jim's forehead. "Feelin' a little ripe, huh?"

"Completely. And itchy."

"All right. I need to check your fingers and your shoulder. I'll take off the bandages, put you in the tub, then bandage you again when you're done."

"Good," Jim agreed. "Then you'll go to bed?"

"Chris already told me that was next. So it's not like I have a lot of choice."

"Good," Jim repeated. "Think Mom will make me a cheeseburger?"

"I think Winona will make you anything you want to eat. You'll have to eat it with a fork. A bun, thick burger," Bones said, shaking his head.

"Yeah. I'll use a fork," Jim agreed.

"You may need to sleep after your bath. So she'll make it whenever you are up to eating it."

Jim nodded at that, looking past Bones when Spock stopped in the door. "Hey."

"Jim," Spock said lightly. "You are feeling better?"

"I am. Please come in," Jim requested.

Spock entered his bedroom, standing by the bed. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'd love some Pepsi," Jim admitted.

"Certainly," Spock agreed, leaving for it.

"Can you come with me to the bathroom? Or does Spock need to carry you?" Bones asked, backing up a little.

"I'd like to try," Jim said, slowly easing his legs over the side of his bed. With Bones' help, he was able to sit up, stopping to catch his breath.

"Any dizziness?" Bones asked.

"No. Just short of breath," Jim said. "Okay."

Bones nodded, a warm arm firmly around Jim's waist. They made their slow way to the bathroom, Jim leaning more heavily on Bones than he would have liked. But that was the only way he could be certain he would arrive safely.

Once they were inside Jim's spacious bathroom, Bones put him on the closed toilet lid to wait. It felt odd to be sitting up by himself and he considered the new sensation. He decided it was tolerable as he watched Bones fill the tub, adding some foaming bubbles. While the hot water was flowing, Bones said he was going for his medical bag and would return shortly. Jim solemnly promised to stay right where he was until Bones returned. In the meantime, Spock came in with the glass of Pepsi, giving it to Jim and making sure he had a secure grip on it with his right hand.

"Everybody still here?" Jim asked.

"For the most part. Kameer is here. Salema is planning to leave tomorrow. Pavel and Hikaru have no intentions of leaving – apparently _ever_ from what they have said," Spock said, making Jim laugh.

"They always get like that when I've been hurt. They'll be okay," Jim assured him. "Are you spending the night?"

"I had hoped to," Spock said. "I have heard the recliner is quite comfortable."

"You can sleep with me," Jim said, hoping he came across as causal but not sure he succeeded. "If you want."

"I do want," Spock said, shrugging when Jim laughed. "I do not know it is what is best for you."

"Unless you plan to toss and turn, it will be fine. I don't move."

"Discussing sleeping arrangements?" Bones guessed as he reentered the bathroom.

"Something like that," Jim agreed, drinking from his Pepsi.

"You can sleep with him," Bones told Spock. "You won't bother him. And he won't roll over on you."

"Very well," Spock said with a nod. "I will leave you."

"You'll come back when I'm safe in bed?" Jim asked him.

"Certainly," Spock agreed, leaving silently.

Jim frowned at Bones' expression, even less happy when Bones laughed. "Stop that."

"I'm not doin' a thing I need to stop," Bones informed him.

"You are," Jim protested as Bones helped him out of his pajama top. "You are making fun of me."

"Because you are in love? Because you want him like you've never wanted anybody?"

Jim shrugged, waiting as Bones unwrapped the bandages.

"How does it feel?" Bones asked as he very carefully lifted Jim's left arm away from his chest.

"Tight. Stiff."

"Painful?" Bones asked.

"A little. It feels like it's pulling," Jim said.

"That's not surprising," Bones told him. He checked Jim's fingers, not removing the splints. "Another few days."

"Okay," Jim agreed. "These are some pretty spectacular colors."

"They are," Bones said. "I think it's a personal best. Come on."

Jim let Bones help him stand up and lower his pajama bottoms. That taken care of, Bones assisted Jim into the delicious hot water, sinking up to his chin.

"You won't be able to stay like that very long," Bones reminded him.

"I know," Jim said. "But it sure feels good."

"I know it does. You want a washcloth?"

"In a minute. At least I don't have to worry about washing my hair."

"There is that," Bones agreed, rubbing the stubble on his head. "It's coming back even blonder."

Jim shrugged at that, knowing he had absolutely no control over it. "You know," Jim said, looking up at Bones, a warm and thoughtful expression on his face. "When I thought I had finally run out of luck and that I was going to die, I only had two regrets."

"You did?" Bones asked, listening to anything Jim wanted to say.

"I was sorry Spock and I hadn't… you know…."

"Made up?" Bones suggested.

"Something like that. The other thing I regretted was leaving you. That I would never see you again. And I hadn't told you how much I love you," Jim said quietly and sincerely.

"You know I know that, kid. You don't have to say it for me to know," Bones assured him, rubbing over his stubble in a comforting motion.

"Sometimes it needs to be said," Jim told him. "And I'm sorry I don't tell you as much as you deserve to hear it."

"Thank you," Bones responded. "You know the opposite is true, right?"

"I've heard," Jim joked, relishing his friend's comforting presence. "Thanks."

"That's what best friends are for," Bones assured him.

"Sooooo…." Jim said, deciding it was time for a change of subject. Some emotions needed to be spoken even when they are understood. But not at the risk of embarrassing them both beyond redemption.

"What?" Bones asked in suspicion.

"About Spock," Jim said.

"I am not having this conversation. You are not ready to do _anything_ more strenuous than taking a bath. I will _not_, repeat, _not_ give you permission to do anything except sleep. You got that?"

"Yeah yeah yeah. You never let me have any fun," Jim complained, laughing when Bones smacked him very gently on the head. "Is Nyota staying the night?"

"She is. Tahla and Kheri are coming tomorrow to check on you," Bones said.

"That's cool. I guess I'll still be in bed, huh?"

"Yes. For another few days. No use complainin' about it," Bones said in a preemptive strike.

Jim snorted at him and closed his eyes to enjoy the hot water surrounding his aching body. "Did they find the rat in the corn?"

"Not as far as I know. Pavel and Hikaru are still checking all of the firewalls. Chris has security on it as well. They found one anomaly but don't think it's the problem."

"Did I hear that Sheik Siraj Khalil-Gheisari said the whole thing was our idea and he wanted no part of it?" Jim asked.

"He released a statement to that effect – disavowing all knowledge of the potential coup. Chris isn't concerned. He received word that Khalil was going to do it to protect his people."

"What happens now?" Jim asked.

"That's up to Tahla. I think she's convening the Hierarchy but I'm not sure."

"So her visit tomorrow is official or social?"

"Social. Chris said it can be official when I decide. Not before," Bones assured him.

"Okay," Jim agreed. "Can you help me slide up?"

Bones pushed up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, pulling Jim higher in the water, his breathing easier. "That better?"

"Yeah. Do you have that washcloth?"

Bones gave it to him, watching as he washed to make sure it wasn't too much for him. As he waited, he told Jim of other news he may have missed. Whether or not Jim was actually listening was of little importance. He knew Jim liked having his voice in his ears and he was happy to oblige.

When Jim finally decided he'd been soaking long enough, Bones helped him up and out, seating him on the toilet again to dry him and bandage his shoulder. Jim hated admitting it but there was no way he could dry or dress himself. Clean pajamas were the last step before Bones took him back to bed and tucked him in.

"Eat or sleep?" Bones asked once Jim was snug in bed.

"Sleep," Jim admitted reluctantly, Bones nodding and waiting until he was completely asleep before leaving his bedroom.


	31. Congratulations Are In Order

_The power of love to change bodies is legendary, built into folklore, common sense, and everyday experience. Love moves the flesh, it pushes matter around... Throughout history, "tender loving care" has uniformly been recognized as a valuable element in healing._ ~Larry Dossey

* * *

Spock watched Jim sleep, heeding Leonard's warning that he might be somewhat restless. Between the pain of his injuries and the bad dreams that often accompanied them, he might talk and move more than would be expected. Jim had mumbled briefly during the night but Spock spoke quietly to him and Jim stilled.

It was not long after he had woken that Leonard stopped by the door to Jim's room. Spock told Leonard softly that he would stay, Leonard nodding and leaving. Spock could hear the entire house stirring and had already decided to wait until Jim woke before leaving the bed. He did not want Jim to wake up alone when they had gone to sleep together.

"Mmm…." Jim sighed, shifting slightly.

"I am here," Spock told him, a warm hand on Jim's right shoulder. "Go back to sleep."

"Mmm…" Jim groaned, slowly opening his eyes. A smile formed when he saw Spock still there. "Hey."

"Good morning," Spock returned. "How are you feeling?"

"Stiff and sore. Like you'd expect," Jim said. "You?"

"I am fine. Better than fine."

Jim smiled more at that, lifting his right hand to caress Spock's cheek, still warm from the pillow. His thumb traced an elegant up-swept eyebrow. "I've missed you."

"And I you," Spock said. "I regret the time that I wasted."

Jim shook his head. "Time we both wasted. You had to come to it on your own. I know it wasn't easy to learn the truth. I'm just glad you came to Rahth Mutadaffaq. God, what would have happened if you hadn't?"

"I did come. There is no purpose in considering things which never occurred."

"I suppose so," Jim agreed. "Have you ever kissed anyone with braces?"

"Not since I was 12," Spock said, making Jim laugh softly.

"Don't make me laugh. It hurts too much."

"I apologize," Spock said. But Jim knew he didn't really mean it. Neither of them regretted it. "I have no reservations about kissing someone with braces again."

"Just anybody with braces?" Jim teased.

"I do not plan to make a career of it," Spock said.

"Good to know. Would you mind helping me into the bathroom? I'd rather go than the alternative."

"Certainly I will assist you," Spock agreed, leaving the bed to circle to Jim's side. He was wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt that Leonard had dug up from somewhere. They were soft and warm and those were the only criteria Spock cared about.

He helped Jim carefully leave his bed, a warm arm around his waist. Jim leaned heavily against him, not that Spock minded in the least. Once they arrived inside the bathroom, Jim said he would sit, to spare them both unnecessary embarrassment.

"I believe Leonard still wants to check the results," Spock said.

"Yeah," Jim sighed. "Tell him when he comes, he better bring me coffee."

"I will convey the information," Spock said, Jim laughing very quietly as Spock left. Spock told Leonard that Jim was seeing to the needs of his body, Leonard going into the bathroom.

"How you doing?" he asked Jim who was resting his elbows in his knees.

"Okay. Just out of breath. You know," Jim said.

"I do know. Did it hurt to pee?" Bones asked.

"Nope. It's all good," Jim assured him, accepting his help to stand up. Jim waited patiently as Bones put his pajamas bottoms back in place.

"No blood," Bones said before flushing away the evidence. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Breakfast," Jim said, pointing toward the hallway.

"Breakfast in bed," Bones corrected, steering him back to his bedroom.

"Booooonessss….."

"No. And quit whining. Get in bed and I'll bring you coffee," Bones said. He helped Jim back into his bed, ignoring Jim's unhappy expression. "What do you want besides coffee?"

"To eat at the table."

"No. Poptarts?" Bones asked.

"Really? You'll let me have Poptarts?"

"If you quit pouting, I will," Bones bargained.

"Okay. Poptarts," Jim agreed with a nod turning on his sunniest smile to which Bones was entirely immune. One of the few people who could actually resist it.

"All right. I'll let everyone come if you want. _Providing _you promise to take a nap in an hour."

"I will," Jim promised.

"I'll be right back," Bones said, shaking his head and leaving. Only moments later, Spock entered with a huge mug of coffee.

"Thank you," Jim said, sipping from the cup. "Bones said he'll let everyone come but then I have to take a nap."

"It is what you need," Spock confirmed. "I will remain with you as you sleep, if you like."

"I would like. But there's no point in you staying and being bored. I'll sleep fine."

"If you are certain."

"I am," Jim told him.

"Then I will take the time to go home. I have not seen my parents since our return. While my mother knows that I am all right, she wishes to see for herself."

"Same with Mom," Jim agreed. "Isn't that right?"

"Depends on what you are talking about," Winona replied as she lead the parade into his room. In the ensuing chaos, Spock told Jim good-bye, assuring him he would return within the next two to three hours.

Jim ate three Poptarts and finished a gigantic mug of coffee. Hikaru insisted on starting _Star Wars_ because they hadn't watched it in over a month. Everyone else groaned in supposed dismay but he knew for a fact that no one minded. Pavel was telling Chris about his classes this semester and which ones counted toward his PhD. Kameer was trying to convince everyone that he did, in fact, need to go home. His fiancée would be wondering where he was. Salema thought she would leave the next day, her parents aware of where she was. And they had assured her that they would feed her cats. Both of them. Nyota had disappeared about the same time as Leonard, no one speculating out loud where they might have gone or what they were doing instead of _not_ watching the movie. Scotty was telling Hikaru about the Emirates Pavilion and what a good job Spock did of acting all high and mighty which distracted the manager enough to get them upstairs.

Winona was able to chat quietly with Jim, none of the topics of any importance. She had seen him on Oprah and told him how much she enjoyed it. He shrugged at her words, no response to give that made any difference.

"Do you know when Tahla and Kheri are coming?" Winona asked Chris when there was a brief lull in the conversation.

"Not until this afternoon," Chris said. "And Jim is supposed to be asleep."

"I am asleep," Jim claimed, everyone laughing at him.

"Of course," Chris said. "Would you sleep better if we left you?"

"No," Jim said, shaking his head. Chris reached over when the phone rang, checking the display.

"It's Chillie," Chris said.

"Oh," Jim said. "You need to tell him I was in a car accident."

"Of course," Chris said, everyone quieting down so that Chris could talk to him. "This is Chris Pike."

"Hello, Mr. Pike," Chillie said. "How are you?"

"I'm just fine, Chillie. You?"

"Great. I was wondering if Jim was home?"

"He is but he's recovering from a car accident," Chris said, sounding appropriately concerned.

"An accident?" Chillie repeated. "Is he all right?"

"He's banged up and bruised. He's been confined to bed by Leonard for the next week, at least."

"This isn't good," Chillie said. "Does he need anything? Is there anything I can do for him?"

"Not right now. He'll be up to visitors next week. I'm sure he'll want you and Sherry to come."

"Of course. Please keep me posted. And if he needs anything, all you need do is call."

"He'll appreciate hearing that," Chris confirmed. "Thank you for calling."

"Thank you," Chillie said, hanging up.

Once Chris had also hung up, the lively conversation picked up where it had left off, Jim falling asleep in the middle of answering a question his mother had asked.

~o0o~

"Jim," he vaguely heard someone saying. "It's time for you to wake up."

"Huh?" Jim responded. More like grunted. _Go to sleep. Wake up. Get in bed. Get out of bed. _Man, he'd be glad when he didn't have to take orders any longer. "What?"

"First of all, it's 2:30," Bones voice was saying as Jim tried valiantly to focus on him.

"What?"

"Yeah. If you sleep much more today, you won't sleep tonight," Bones warned.

"You're the one who said I had to nap," Jim reminded him.

"I meant for a couple of hours. Not the entire day. Count on you to do everything to extremes," Bones scolded affectionately.

Jim snorted at him, slowly leveraging himself up higher in bed with Bones' help.

"Tahla and Kheri are here to visit. Do you need to go to the bathroom before they come in?"

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "And I'm hungry."

"Good. You should be," Bones said, helping him out of bed and over to his bathroom.

"You showered," Jim said, making a show of sniffing him. "You smell like Nyota."

"Shut up," Bones groused, settling him on the toilet.

"I wasn't the only one in bed, was I?" Jim asked, making Bones frown even more at him.

"I can have your jaw wired shut. Chris will back me up that it was medically necessary."

Jim shook his head, laughing very softly. "You'll do no such thing. At least one of us isn't just sleeping."

"For the love of all that is holy, shut up. I'm begging you," Bones said.

Jim laughed again, accepting his help to stand. "Spock back?"

"He is. He brought some clothes. Not that he minded wearing mine. But he thought wearing his own was preferable."

"Makes sense. Is Hikaru doing the laundry?"

"Scotty is. I have no idea why. He lost a bet? I don't know," Bones said, putting Jim back in bed. "What do you want to eat?"

"I don't know. Well, actually what I want is a banana milkshake."

"That's fine. I'll send in Kheri and Tahla and bring your milkshake when it's ready."

"Thanks," Jim agreed. He watched Bones leave, the door soon filled with Tahla and Kheri Uhura. Kheri was a large man in spirit and in his physical being. His booming voice could fill any room and his laugh was the most infectious Jim had ever had the pleasure of hearing.

"Hello my dear," Tahla said with a bright smile and a huge bouquet of roses.

"Jim," Kheri added with a smile.

"Hi," Jim responded, admiring the flowers. "Are those for me?"

Tahla and Kheri both laughed at him. "No they are for Leonard. In sympathy for having to put up with you," Tahla told him warmly, putting the vase a table where Jim could see them.

"Yeah, he deserves them," Jim was forced to agree, smiling at Tahla when she sat on the edge of the bed to study him closely. "I'm fine."

"Why do you insist on lying to me, young man?" she asked warmly, shaking her head.

"It's not a real lie. A polite half-truth maybe," he assured her.

"Seriously, dear. How are you doing? Leonard said you sustained some pretty sever injuries."

Jim shrugged with his right shoulder, not succeeding in keeping all of the flinch off of his face. "I wasn't shot. And the only stitches are in my head."

"True," Tahla had to agree, stroking the stubble on his scalp. "You have a nice head for shaving."

Jim laughed at that. "No thanks. I'm looking forward to it growing back."

"Of course you are," Kheri said. "You'll be relieved of duty for the next two months."

"I think I heard that. But I'm not entirely sure," Jim admitted.

"No matter," Kheri told him. "You'll be able to help us unravel what happened. But no active missions."

"So I'll still be paid?" Jim joked.

"Half salary," Kheri decided. "And that's for being a smart-ass."

"Kheri," Tahla said with a laugh. "That's no kind of language to use."

"But it's true," he reminded her.

"I wasn't arguing with the veracity of your statement," she said. "At any rate, dear, your book is still number one on the _New York Times_ list. I don't know that you would miss your Consortium salary."

"It pays for luxuries. Like electricity and gas," Jim joked, smiling when Bones returned with his milkshake. "Thank you."

"Coffee?" Kheri asked.

"Banana," Bones corrected. "I was wondering if I could have a private word with you," Bones said to Kheri. "It's nothing to do with you," Bones assured Jim.

"I didn't say anything," Jim protested.

"Of course, Leonard. Behave yourself," he said to Jim as he followed Leonard out and across to his office.

"Have a seat, please," Leonard requested when they were in his office with the door closed.

Kheri did it, looking up at Leonard with a smile as the Doctor paced in front of him.

"I'd very much like to marry your daughter, sir," Leonard finally blurted out. He stopped, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I meant to be much more eloquent. Convince you I'm worthy. Not that any man is truly worthy of Nyota. I know that. But I am…"

"Leonard," Kheri said, holding up one hand to stem the flood of words. "Tahla and I can't think of a single person we'd rather see Nyota with than you."

"Oh," Bones said, sitting next to Kheri, studying his face. "That's a yes?"

"That is a most definite yes, son. I appreciate you asking me even though it's truly unnecessary. Nyota is already looking at wedding dresses. She wants me to buy a new tuxedo," Kheri laughed.

"Good," Bones said with a nod. "Jim has already agreed to sell us, well, me 10 acres. I haven't asked her yet but I think she's willing to live out here. We'll build her a studio."

"She doesn't want to live anywhere else," Kheri said. "She wants to get married out here. Live out here. Raise your babies out here."

"Babies," Leonard repeated. "We haven't discussed babies."

"If they don't fit into your vision of the future, she won't marry you. As much as she loves you," Kheri warned.

"They do fit in, sir. I just hadn't thought about it," Leonard admitted. "She will make beautiful babies."

"You both will," Kheri said. "And you won't have any shortage of baby sitters. With Pavel and Hikaru always close by."

"There is that," Leonard laughed. "I think I'd like to wait to get married until after the house is built. That makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Certainly it does. I believe that is Nyota's general timeframe as well."

Leonard nodded, taking a deep breath. "Thank you, sir."

"Thank you, son. Welcome to the family," Kheri said, standing when Leonard did and engulfing him in a warm hug. "You wait here. I'll tell Nyota to come talk to you."

"Give me three minutes. So I can get her engagement ring out of my safe."

"Of course," Kheri agreed, going to the door, his laughter lingering.

Exactly four minutes later, Nyota knocked softly and entered, looking a little worried. "Len?"

"Hey," he said, smiling at her before hugging her. "Come in."

She followed him to the couch, sitting next to him. "What's up? Everything okay?"

"Better than okay, darlin'. I have received permission from your father to propose to you," Leonard said, sliding off the couch to kneel before her. He took out the ring box to open it, smiling up at her in pure happiness. "Nyota Uhura. Will you marry me?"

She laughed and slid off the couch in front of him. "I think you know the answer to that." He was incapable of responding as she kissed him, leaving them both completely breathless. "Yes, yes, yes. I will absolutely marry you."

"I hoped you'd say that," he said, slipping the ring onto her finger. It was emeralds and rubies, her favorite combination of jewels. She had never cared for diamonds and he knew she would prefer the red and green stones.

"Oh Len," she said breathless when she looked closely at the ring. "It's wonderful."

"Thank you," he said. "Hikaru designed it."

"Hikaru?" she repeated with a laugh.

"I know. I was surprised too. But he loves to design jewelry. He has a real eye for it as it turns out."

"Good for him," she said. "Let's go tell everybody."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed, following her out, their hands tightly clasped. The first stop was Jim's room, much joy at the news. Not much of a surprise but very happy none-the-less. The celebration in the living room and kitchen was much more boisterous, Hikaru and Pavel disappearing into the wine cellar, only briefly, to find two magnums of champagne they had put back for special occasions. The discussion of their engagement devolved quickly into who would be ushers, her maid of honor, where it would be held, what she would be wearing. Most of the ideas came from Nyota, Winona and Selema, Tahla joining in when she left Jim's bedroom.

Leonard excused himself to go see Jim who was talking to Spock. He laughed at Bones when he sat in the rocker in the corner. "You can run but you can't hide."

"Don't I know it," Bones agreed. "Good lord, man. I had no idea."

"Congratulations," Spock said. "You are a very lucky man."

"I know," Bones said with a smile. "A very lucky, _happy_ man."

"Good for you," Jim said. "Not only do you get to plan a wedding, you get to plan a house."

Bones groaned at the reminder. "Maybe we'll elope."

"I doubt that," Jim laughed. "Not from the way she was talking."

"Yeah," Bones agreed.

"The Ice Floes can play for the reception," Jim said.

"True. Won't make it too much of a circus," Bones said.

"I predict that your wedding will be a circus at any rate," Spock said in sympathy.

"Helicopters. Boats off the dock. Paparazzi," Jim teased.

"Whatever for? I'm not anybody," Bones complained.

"You are Jim's best friend. You are marrying Nyota Uhura," Spock reminded him.

"Oh yeah. Eloping is the way to go," Bones said, burying his face in his hands.

Jim laughed, the only response that was possible for Bones' overly dramatic reaction. "They still don't know who the rat in the corn was."

"That's not good," Bones said. "What are they going to do?"

"They want my help. Just on the computer," he rushed to tell him before Bones could yell at him. "From the safety of my bed."

"All right. For a couple of hours. And that's all," Bones said.

"That'll work," Jim agreed with a sigh. "Tomorrow."

"You done in?" Bones asked, moving to sit on his bed.

"Yeah." Jim hated admitting it but the pain seemed to be winning. And all he could really think about was going back to sleep. His admission to Bones was met with confirmation that it was to be expected.

"I'll get you a pain killer. Then you can sleep until tomorrow," Bones promised him.

"Good," Jim agreed, looking up at Spock. "You staying?"

"I will until you are asleep. Then I will…. I am uncertain what I will do," Spock admitted.

"How are your parents? Are they angry with me? Well, I know your father won't admit to being angry."

"Neither of them are angry. Nor do they have reason to be. They understand. It was my father who told me I needed to go to Rahth Mutadaffaq. He could then hardly fault me for following his advice."

"There is that," Jim agreed. "Once it's actually dark outside and you are ready for bed, will you come sleep with me?"

"Certainly," Spock said. "I have my own pajamas now."

Jim laughed softly at that. "You looked adorable in Bones'."

"I believe Hikaru's term of _adorkable_ is more apt."

"Hikaru called you adorkable?" Jim said, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused.

"He did. Pavel called him down for it. I took no offense," Spock said.

Jim shook his head, laughing again. "As long as you don't mind."

"Not in the least," Spock confirmed, watching as Leonard gave him two huge tablets and a glass of water.

"Drink all of it," Leonard instructed.

Jim grunted and obediently emptied the glass before returning it. "Would you put _Star Wars_ on again?"

"Of course," Leonard said, going over to start it. "Do you want me to stay?"

"No. You have a celebration to be the center of," Jim said, laughing when his friend frowned at him. "You lucky guy."

"Go to sleep," Leonard said as he turned off the lights and slipped out of the room, leaving Jim, Spock, and the movie.

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_A/N: As hard as it for me to believe, this is probably going to be the next-to-the-last chapter of Kirk. James T. Kirk! Thanks a million to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and alerted this story! Reviews really are writer crack! I haven't quite finished the last chapter yet - I get terrible separation anxiety. But I hope to post it this weekend. _

_Hope you enjoyed this chapter! And thanks again!_


	32. Two Puppies and One Epilogue

_A/N: Hard to believe but this is the last "official" posting of Kirk James T. Kirk. What a great time I've had! And **thank you** to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favorited this story. (I got lost in responding to your lovely reviews and I apologize if you didn't hear back from me. I'll be more vigilant in future, I promise.) And even though this is the last _official_ chapter, I'm participating in the KSValentine challenge over on LiveJournal. I'm writing my submission as a continuation of this story. And it will have 110% more K/S - the kind that's rated M! (Yes, I'll also post it here.)_

_All this to say - Thanks! I love hearing from each and every one of you!_

_

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_Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as secrets to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh._ ~Leonard Cohen

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"Hey kid," Bones said the next morning, the light streaming into Jim's room.

"Yeah?" Jim mumbled into the pillow. He realized he was sleeping on his right side and considered that for a minute. It hurt but not in an unbearable kind of way. It was kind of nice to finally roll off his back and take the pressure off those bruises.

"Wake up for a minute," Bones requested, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I'm mostly awake," Jim decided, opening both eyes to prove it. "What are you up to?"

"Not a lot. Nyota needs to go into town. And there are some reports I need to file at the Consortium. Will you be okay if I go?"

"Of course," Jim agreed. "Somebody's still here, right?"

"Winona. Scotty, Hikaru, Pavel, Spock."

"That's what I thought. But why isn't Pavel in class?" Jim asked.

"Because it's Friday," Bones said, shaking his head.

"Oh. Guess I lost track," Jim said. "Can Spock help me take a bath?"

"If he puts you in and doesn't join you," Bones agreed.

"That's all he'll do. Put me in," Jim said.

"Do you want anything from town?"

"Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Chocolate frosted."

"Of course," Bones laughed. "I'll get you some new pain killers too. Ones that aren't quite so strong so you can stay awake for longer than a couple of hours."

"Good thinking," Jim agreed.

"You hungry?"

"I don't think so. I'll tell Spock if I decide. What about my bandages?"

"I won't hurt you to have them off until I get back. Since you'll be coming straight back to bed after you're out."

"Okay," Jim agreed. "How long will you be gone?"

"Three hours at the most. If you need me, just call and I'll come home."

Jim shook his head at that. "Have lunch out. Get some air."

"Maybe," Leonard said. "You want anything besides doughnuts?"

"I don't think so. If I think of anything, I'll call you. Did Chris leave?"

"He went to the office. He'll be back tonight to spend the night. Do you need him?"

"No. Just taking inventory. If I can stay awake, I'm going to check the files."

"As long as you do it in bed. And be careful how much you use your left arm."

"I will. I still can't type with both hands."

"There is that," Bones agreed. "Do you want some pain meds before I go?"

"No. You'll leave them out for Spock, right?"

"I will," Bones said. "Do you want some coffee?"

"Do you have to ask?" Jim asked with a bright smile.

"All right," Bones laughed. "I'll send Spock with it."

"Good," Jim agreed. "Did I remember to say congratulations on your engagement?"

"No but I knew it was there," Bones assured him. "I'll see you this afternoon unless you need me sooner."

"I'm good. Have fun," Jim said, watching him leave and again considering just how lucky he was to have such a good best friend. The best best friend ever. _Oh – was that the pain talking? No – it made sense._

"Why are you frowning so, baby?" Winona asked as she and Spock entered his bedroom.

"I was just trying to decide if my inside voice was making sense," Jim admitted, gratefully accepting the coffee.

"I feel sure it was. You aren't so doped up that you wouldn't make sense," Winona told him.

"Good," Jim said with a nod. "Are you going to be one of Nyota's bridesmaids?" He laughed when she frowned at him.

"You can be such a child," she said.

"Your child. Doesn't that make it _your_ fault?"

"I disavow any responsibility for how you turned out. And I am sorry I didn't do a better job," Winona told Spock.

"You did an excellent job," Spock told her.

"Thank you," Jim and Winona said at the same moment, both of them laughing.

"Leonard said I may assist you in bathing," Spock told him.

"I'm looking forward to another bath," Jim agreed. "Although I don't need it as badly as I did last time."

"It's still nice, isn't it?" Winona said.

"Really nice," Jim agreed.

"Would you mind if I ran out for a little while? I need to do some shopping. And go to the grocery store," she said.

"Of course you should go. But Hikaru can do the grocery shopping."

"I know that, dear. But I enjoy going to the grocery store. And I can get what I need. Is there anything special you know you want to eat?"

"A pineapple upside down cake?" he requested.

"Of course. You won't have any trouble eating it with your braces," she said. "Anything else?"

"No, not really. You'll check with the boys?"

"I will," she agreed. "I think Scotty is going to drive me. Apparently he needs to go to the liquor store? I wasn't asking."

"Probably," Jim laughed. "We don't have the right kind of scotch from what I can make out."

Winona shook her head at that, checking with Spock to see what he wanted from the store. She promised to bring him the Vulcan spice tea and some fresh vegetables.

"Do you need any money?" Jim asked.

"No dear. I've got it covered."

"All right," he agreed, watching her leave with a warm smile on her face.

"Your relationship is quite inspirational," Spock commented quietly.

"It is now. There was a time we barely spoke. My fault really," Jim said with a shrug.

"Youthful indiscretions?"

"Something like that," Jim said, putting down his coffee cup. "I'd really like to take my bath now, if you don't mind."

"I do not," Spock assured him. "I will begin the tub filling up and return for you momentarily."

"Right," Jim agreed, waiting patiently until Spock got back to help him out of bed and over to his bathroom. "I need to… you know."

"Of course," Spock agreed, helping him to the toilet. When Jim was seated, Spock went ahead and removed his pajama bottoms from his feet where they had pooled.

"You aren't going to be embarrassed, are you?" Jim asked, sipping his coffee and studying Spock over the rim of his cup.

"I can think of no reason I should be. As we have previously been intimate. Surely you have no remaining secrets."

"It'd be hard to," Jim laughed. "Do you?"

"None of which I am aware. Perhaps you will discover them with time," Spock suggested. "Will it embarrass you for me to assist you?"

"Nope. I've never been especially self-conscious. Even less so with you," Jim said with a secret smile.

"Do you suppose it would hurt your mouth if I were to kiss you?" Spock asked quietly from where he squatted in front of Jim.

"No. But I need to brush my teeth first," Jim whispered back, leaning closer to Spock as though drawn by invisible forces.

"Of course," Spock agreed, kissing his forehead. "Are you ready to move to the sink?"

"Yeah," Jim agreed, straightening away from him and accepting his help to stand. Spock leaned him against the cabinet so that Jim could coat his toothbrush and carefully brush, rinse and spit. "Want to try it now?"

Spock studied Jim for a brief moment before leaning closer to cover Jim's mouth with his own. Jim tasted of toothpaste and coffee and _Jim._ In some inexplicable way, the kiss was all Jim. "Was there pain?" Spock asked, his words brushing against Jim's mouth.

"None. Bones says we can't do _anything_ for another couple of weeks," Jim said in regret, one hand on Spock's chest, for comfort as well as stability.

"You know it is for the best. And we will have plenty of time once you are healed."

"The rest of our lives?" Jim whispered, leaning his head on Spock's shoulder, refusing to look up at him. If Spock looked surprised, or worse, shocked by the question, Jim wasn't prepared to handle that at the moment. In fact he shouldn't have said it. Maybe that was the painkillers talking.

"Do you mean what you say?" Spock asked softly.

"If I do?" Jim asked, finally looking up to meet Spock's eyes.

"I would know more happiness than most Vulcans believe exist," Spock said, making Jim laugh.

"Does that make sense?"

"Maybe it does not. But it is true. When we were apart, I could think of little except you. And how I possibly had ruined any chance of having a future with you."

"We both had to cross the bridge. There is blame enough to go around. I don't want you taking it all on yourself," Jim said, kissing Spock's mouth very lightly.

"We can agree that it is the past. We can agree to look only forward," Spock suggested.

"Yes," Jim said.

"Why me?" Spock asked. "Why have you chosen to make a commitment to me when there is an entire world of people who would trade anything to be in my place?"

"Because you understand me. You aren't intimidated by me. You came to Rahth Mutadaffaq at the risk of your own life. Even when you still didn't approve of the choices I have made. And our hearts make decisions of their own. Because you love me," Jim said, studying the depths of Spock's eyes and seeing the truth reflected there.

"I do. My heart has decided. It is an unusual circumstance to find myself in," Spock said, kissing Jim's bruised cheek. "It is one I would not trade."

"Before we go any further, you're going to have to explain about Vulcan bonds and… all it means to pledge oneself to a Vulcan," Jim said, leaning more heavily against Spock and enjoying the silent strength beneath the black leisure clothes he was wearing.

"Yes," Spock said. "For now, it is enough to know that you desire it. When you are well and can fully comprehend all that it means, I will explain. You must then choose."

"I have already chosen," Jim said.

Spock shook his head. "Falling in love is one thing. Bonding is…much more."

Jim nodded. "Okay. I'll wait because you want me to."

"Yes," Spock said, unwrapping Jim bandages. "Now that I know of your secret life, may I ask again about this scar?" Spock asked, lightly touching the deep round mark on Jim's shoulder.

"Nothing's off limits any longer. It's from the first time I was ever shot. I was surprised at how much it hurt." He laughed softly when Spock raised on eyebrow. "I know. Having a pointed piece of metal ripping through your body at a high rate of speed would be painful. But it hurt a lot more than I expected."

"Who shot you?" Spock asked.

"The bad guys. I'm still not sure exactly who did it. Bones and I were on a mission to Iceland. Just routine. Then all hell broke loose. We think we were in the middle of a local dispute but it got really fuzzy really fast. Bones got me out and patched me up."

"And this one on your ribs?" Spock asked, tracing a faint pink line that followed the lowest rib on Jim's left side.

"I had a broken rib. It broke in half. That was the surgery to repair the damage," Jim said.

"It broke in half?" Spock repeated.

"Yeah. I was hit by a car. Well, a tank. A small one. It's not as dramatic as it sounds," Jim said.

"It sounds extreme," Spock said, wrapping his arm more firmly around Jim when he shivered. "You need to get into the tub. If you catch cold, Leonard will be most displeased."

"Yeah," Jim agreed, accepting Spock's assistance to enter the steaming hot water. Once he was settled, he lifted his right arm to show Spock the faint scar that ran from his wrist to his elbow. "I got this one breaking a window to get out of a burning building. Hikaru and I were in Paraguay doing research. Chris called and asked us to check on a enclave of cocaine dealers. We found their stash and set fire to it. Unfortunately, they found us and threw us into the burning building. But we got out with only minimal damage."

"How many stitches did you require?" Spock asked sounding vaguely amused.

"Uhm…13 or 14. I'm not really sure."

"And that is minimal damage?"

"I have 15 in my scalp," Jim reminded him, pointing to the two lines of stitches standing out in sharp relief on his head.

"True," Spock said, touching the hair growing back. "Are you letting it grow?"

"Absolutely. I don't want to be bald. And I don't need any more scars that show."

Spock had to nod at that, his hand still on Jim's head, a sensation which Jim appreciated. "How long have you been with the Consortium?"

"Since I was 17. Right after I was arrested for stealing a motorcycle."

"Had you stolen it?" Spock asked, a sparkle in his black eyes.

"Only sort-of," Jim said.

"How does one _sort-of _steal anything?" Spock asked.

"This guy had done some repairs on it. But I didn't have all the money he wanted. So he kept my bike. I finally got tired of waiting so I took it. The police considered it stealing even though it was originally mine."

"I see," Spock said. "How much did you owe for the repairs?"

"A lot," Jim admitted. "More than the bike was worth, probably. But it was my only means of transportation. I couldn't earn enough to pay it off if I didn't have it. And he wouldn't give it to me so I could make the money I owed him."

"That was a quite a conundrum," Spock agreed.

"Yeah. I had every intention of paying him once I'd made enough. But he saw it differently. When Mom called to tell Chris I'd been arrested, he paid the guy for the repairs and the charges were dropped. Chris told me I could work it off so I did. Then the Consortium paid me to go college. And the rest is pretty much history."

"How does one become a member of the Consortium if one does not need it to escape law enforcement officials?"

"One talks to Chris," Jim laughed. "Or Tahla. But she'll probably tell you to talk to Chris."

"As I expected," Spock said.

"What will your parents say?" Jim asked.

"That it is important to follow what my heart tells me. My heart is not in the publishing industry," Spock said.

"It never has been," Jim agreed. "You did it. But you didn't love it."

"I enjoyed reading your novel. All of your novels. However, the rest of the responsibilities I found trying."

"I can imagine," Jim said.

"When I was visiting my grandmother, I happened to see a volume of the poetry you wrote."

"Oh Lord. She's the one who bought the third copy?" Jim joked.

"Do you write poetry still?"

Jim looked up at him before glancing away. Of all the things they had already discussed, why was this the hardest for him to answer?

"Should I have not asked?" Spock said quietly.

"I suck at poetry," Jim finally said. "But I still write it."

"Your poetry did not 'suck,'" Spock corrected. "It was heartfelt and honest."

"And drivel."

"It was not," Spock said. "Would you consider publishing a collection?"

"I don't know. I don't let anyone read it."

"Not even Leonard?"

"Sometimes he reads it. Most of it I write and lock away. It's an escape mechanism."

"I can understand that," Spock agreed, going for a thick towel when Jim yawned. "I believe you are done."

"Probably," Jim laughed, accepting his help to stand up. He mostly dried himself, letting Spock help him into clean pajamas. "I'm going to have to go back to sleep."

"I believe that is to be excepted. Do you want the pain medication?"

"Yeah," Jim said, crossing over to his bed with Spock's support. "The pain's not bad but I won't sleep if I don't take it. And I'm really tired."

Spock nodded and got him the tablets and a glass of water. "Should I put on the movie?"

"Please," Jim agreed, closing his eyes and wondering why his body hated him. Well. He could understand it considering the abuse he inflicted on it. "Huh?" he asked when he realized Spock was talking to him.

"Did you want something to eat?" Spock asked, drawing the curtains over the bright windows.

"Not right now. When I wake up," Jim decided. "These pills usually make me sleep for 5 or 6 hours. So don't be concerned if I sleep that long."

"I will not be," Spock assured him.

~o0o~

Quiet voices penetrated Jim's sleep shrouded brain, slowly. What made much more of an impact was the sensation of tiny impressions on his legs, coming up toward him. He allowed his eyes to open, not breathing for a moment. He was face to face with gigantic black eyes and black floppy ears on a tiny black head. The mouth inches from his opened so that a tiny pink tongue could lick him. Jim blinked and tried again. Hallucinations this long after he'd been injured were unusual. He moved up the bed a little ways, the tiny black object going up with him.

He took as deep a breath as he could, reaching out with his right hand to touch the soft black puppy who was happily wagging where it stood on Jim's stomach. It seemed very content to simply stand on Jim and wag at him which was fine but what was it doing there at all?

"Don't just stare at him. Pet him. He's yours," Bones told him, a laugh barely suppressed in his voice.

"Mine?" Jim said, petting the soft fur on the puppy's back.

"I promised. You wanted a black lab. Now you have one," Bones said.

"You got me a dog," Jim said, understanding finally coming to him. "You got me a dog!"

"Yes I did," Bones confirmed, sitting on the edge of Jim's bed. "Now you have to name him."

"Him?"

"Yeah. I'm not a Vet but I'm pretty sure he's a boy dog," Bones laughed.

Jim looked up at Spock who looked nearly as pleased as Leonard. "Did you have something to do with this?"

"Nothing more than agreeing that it would be an appropriate 'get well' gift."

"You don't mind?" Jim asked, needing confirmation that Spock was in favor of dogs too.

"I do not. As Leonard stated, every boy needs a dog."

Jim laughed at that, scratching behind the puppy's ear. "You sure are a cutey," Jim told the puppy, to the puppy's approval. The puppy barked at the sound of Jim's voice, the all important bonding already started. Jim looked back over at Bones who was just smiling at the two of them. "You never cease to amaze me."

Bones shrugged, petting the puppy. "The fence will be finished next week. Until then we'll have to walk him. Hikaru and Pavel have promised to take care of it."

"The fence?" Jim said, feeling slightly stupid.

"You don't think he can just run wild on the beach like you do, do you?"

"No," Jim said. "Where is the fence going?"

"Starting at the patio door."

"Okay," Jim agreed, smiling at Bones again. "Thank you."

Bones shrugged, reaching down beside the bed for a couple of toys. The puppy took the one that looked like a snowman, happily shaking it before laying down curled up around it.

They all looked over at the door when Winona and Scotty appeared, an unmistakable bundle in Winona's arms. "And here's his brother," she announced, placing a second black puppy on the bed next to the first. The two puppies greeted each other enthusiastically and proceeded to roll around on Jim's bed in gleeful abandon.

"Two puppies?" Jim asked, watching them play.

"Yeah. We got them at the shelter. The workers said they have been inseparable and we couldn't stand the idea of splitting them up," Bones confessed. "So I got this one and Winona got that one."

"Uber-cool," Jim said, smiling even more. "Why didn't you just get both?"

"That's just too complicated to explain, dear. What would you like to eat?" she asked him. "Jim?"

"Huh?" he said, finally dragging his attention away from the two puppies to look up at her.

"I said what do you want to eat?" she told him with a warm smile.

"Oh. Uhm…oatmeal?" he said, letting the first puppy chew on the fingers of his right hand.

"You got it," she agreed, kissing his head before leaving his bedroom.

"Seriously. This is just about the coolest thing ever," Jim told Bones with a radiant smile.

"I know," Bones laughed, lifting the puppies down off the bed. "You two go play. We have business to attend to."

The puppies continued to roll around on the floor, making Jim smile at their antics.

"Come on," Bones said, moving Jim's covers aside.

"Where?" Jim asked with a small frown.

"Bathroom. We need to put your bandages back on. You've been asleep for several hours so I'm hoping you need to pee."

"Oh. Yeah. I do," Jim agreed. "What are you going to do?" he asked Spock as he slowly left his bed with Bones' help.

"Help your mother make the oatmeal," Spock decided.

"Okay. You'll come back with it? Her? You know."

"I do know. And I will return," Spock assured him, watching Jim disappear into his bathroom with Bones. Spock left his bedroom and went into the kitchen, the puppies following him. He made sure he did not inadvertently step on them as they scrambled about under his feet. "May I assist you?"

"Gracious no, dear," Winona laughed. "But you can keep me company."

"Certainly," Spock agreed, sitting at the table out of the way.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Yes I would," he said, filling the kettle and putting it on the stove. He felt Winona's eyes on him and turned to meet her gaze, the puppies exploring this new room.

"How are you doing?" she asked him, her voice warm and maternal.

"I am uncertain as to the impetus for your question," he responded honestly, one eyebrow raised.

She smiled at that, shaking her head. "You can tell me the truth, dear. I'm his mom. I know how much of a challenge he can be."

He considered those words briefly before breaking eye contact. He understood her question but did not know if he was ready to try and answer it. Perhaps it was premature to discuss this with her. Perhaps it was not a discussion he ever wanted to have with Jim's mother. "Being in love is a relatively new experience for me," he heard himself confessing, much to his own surprise.

"I can't believe you haven't had previous relationships. As attractive and smart as you are."

"I have been involved in relationships. None of them were meaningful compared to what I feel for your son."

"That's a good start," she said. "And I can tell you that Jim does everything whole hog. No half measures with him. If he says he's in love with you, you can be sure that it's completely and totally."

"Yes," Spock agreed. "As I feel for him."

"But….?" she prompted gently.

"Jim is a much more gregarious person than I," Spock admitted, wondering what it was about Jim's mom that made it seem natural to confide to her.

"You aren't going to be overwhelmed," she said, studying the oatmeal that did not require her undivided attention. But she suspected that if she watched Spock formulate his response, it would make him uncomfortable. More uncomfortable than he already was – she could feel the discomfort radiating off of him like his bodyheat.

"I am unaccustomed to being in the company of others nearly constantly. Yet I would never deny Jim his customary environment."

"You'll have Leonard's room when he marries Nyota. Whether it remains a bedroom or becomes a 'haven' will be up to you. You'll also have Leonard's office. Everyone respects their privacy. No one enters their offices without their express permission."

"Yes," Spock agreed.

"And you know if you want to live with Jim, it will have to be here. He won't leave the ocean."

"I am aware," Spock said. "I have no objections to making this my home. Once Jim invites me."

Winona laughed at his words, shaking her head in a kindly way. "Of course. I would imagine that will be the day Leonard and Nyota are married."

"Unless their house is complete before that time," Spock added.

"Exactly," Winona agreed, looking around the kitchen. "Where did those puppies go?"

"I do not know," Spock said, checking under the dining room furniture. Not finding them, he searched the living room before continuing on to Jim's bedroom. He was not surprised to find them back on Jim's bed, rolling around together. Jim's bathroom door was still closed so he was not certain how the puppies got up on the bed. Perhaps Scotty had put them there. He did not know where the Scotsman had disappeared to this time. Perhaps he was the cause of the front door opening and closing. Fetching the groceries, Spock decided.

Shortly after he entered Jim's bedroom, Winona followed him in with a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of what Spock could smell was coffee. She also had the cup of Vulcan spice tea for him, which he accepted with his thanks.

Not many minutes passed before Jim and Leonard left the bathroom, Jim in fresh pajamas, his left arm once more taped to his chest. Jim allowed Leonard to help him into his bed, the puppies moving up to investigate the bowl and the cup. Winona lifted them down, making them cry in disappointment.

"You might want to take them out," Leonard suggested.

"I will see to it," Spock volunteered.

"Their halters and leashes are in the foyer."

"May we go for a walk on the beach?" Spock asked no one in particular.

"You'll need to bundle up, dear. It's quite cold out," Winona told him gently.

"I will. The puppies will be warm enough?"

"They will," Winona laughed. "Don't go too far. Their legs aren't very long yet."

"Indeed," Spock agreed, scooping them up and carrying them to the foyer. It wasn't long before they heard the front door open and close once more.

"Is he okay?" Jim asked his mom as he ate the oatmeal.

"He's fine, dear. But things are changing very quickly. I think his head is swimming just a little."

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "It's a lot to take in."

"It is. But don't think for one minute these are choices he doesn't want to make."

"I know," he said with a smile. "It's meant to be."

"Yes it is," Winona agreed, kissing him on the head. "Yes it is."

_And they lived happily ever after._

~o0o~

**Epilogue:**

_Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read._ ~Groucho Marx

* * *

_One week_ _later,_ Jim was allowed to help with the investigation of the mission and why it had gone south on them. Between him and Chekov, they discovered two minor security breeches and one complete failure of a firewall. Following the breeches back to their originating addresses, they found that all of the mission briefings had been hacked by someone in the employ of the Sheik of Bahegmha Smhasahe.

Prior to the initiation of the mission, the Sheik had been extremely cooperative with their plans to dispose of his closest neighbor, Sheik Jmhanahe Wahenrha-Grhadrha. As it turned out, he had also been making extensive plans to take over Rahth Mutadaffaq once the Consortium had Sheik Wahenrha out of the way. When the Consortium had requested his permission to have Selema impersonate his daughter Wajeeha, it had simplified his plans to thwart their mission and take over Rahth Mutadaffaq. It was his men who had captured and beaten Jim and Leonard. They would have killed them both if Spock and Scotty had not arrived when they did.

No one could understand how killing Jim and Leonard would help the Sheik take over the country but Tahla vowed to be more cautious in future. "When you make a deal with the devil, you better be prepared to face the consequences." A lesson learned nearly at the cost of two lives.

Tahla told Jim that they were not going to pursue any further missions in that region for a while, until things settled down. The Consortium's aborted coupe had caused its own unrest and changes might come as a side-effect of their unacknowledged presence.

_One month later_, Jim and Leonard hosted a party at their house. For those who knew of Jim's injuries, it was a celebration of his return to what passed as normal. He wasn't ready to run yet but Bones had allowed him to go swimming for a few minutes each day.

For those who believed that Jim had been in a car accident, the party was billed as a celebration of Leonard and Nyota's official engagement. No gifts were allowed. Food and drink were in plentiful supply as anyone who had previously been at their house would expect. Every guest agreed that the two puppies were quite possibly the cutest ever. And so well behaved for being so little yet.

The party was attended by nearly everyone they both knew. Marjorie had returned from Tuscany and was thrilled to see Jim. She was overjoyed at the news of the engagement and made Nyota promise to let her help plan the wedding.

Chillie and Sherry came to the party, the other band members unable to attend. Chillie was treated like a member of the family, a courtesy he very much appreciated. But he supposed the fact that they _all_ practically lived with Jim was the reason that they took his presence in stride.

Sarek and Amanda attended the party, Amanda talking to everyone at least once. Sarek stood a little more apart but found a kindred spirit in Marjorie. What they discussed remained a mystery to most of the party-goers but Marjorie did admit later to Jim that Sarek had asked her to return to House Net'no'kwa as editor-in-chief. She figured she'd accept, since he was offering her a lot of money and four more weeks of vacation.

By the time the party was held, Spock had officially resigned from House Net'no'kwa and had begun the training for the Consortium. Chris had agreed that he would best be used in intelligence gathering and processing, but he still was required to be trained for the field. Every member was. Spock had assured the Hierarchy that he would kill if necessary and that was all they needed to know.

For those not aware of their connection to the Consortium, they were lead to believe that Spock had decided to work for Chris' law firm. They kept what he would be doing intentionally vague but no one doubted that whatever role Spock filled, he would be a tremendous asset to Chris firm.

The fence outside the house had been completed so the puppies had the run of the backyard. Jim had finally named them, _not_ Thing 1 and Thing 2 as Bones suggested. Instead, he named them Shakespeare and Chaucer. Leonard rolled his eyes at their names but knew they were absolutely fitting for Jim's dogs. Pavel allowed as how he thought one of them should be named Tolstoy or Chekhov but his suggestions were vetoed. Hikaru promised if they ever got another dog to keep Shep company, Pavel could name it after any Russian writer/ hero/ nobleman of his choosing.

Scotty had practically moved into their house and had a hard time leaving Jim for any length of time. They all understood his protective nature and was never surprised to wake up to find him in the house when they had gone to bed with him elsewhere. Jim reminded Bones that Scotty did this every time he was hurt and he would eventually spend more time at his house than theirs.

Leonard and Nyota showed the partiers the three house plans they were considering. One was ultra-modern which appealed to Nyota. One was old fashioned and two stories which Leonard favored. And the third was nearly an exact duplicate of the layout of Jim's house, minus the pool. No firm decision was made by the time the party was concluded, despite Jim's encouragement to build it and move out already. No one believed for one minute that he really was anxious for Leonard to leave, even if it was just across the pasture.

Spock had told Jim that he would not move in until Leonard had moved out. Not that he thought it would be especially awkward but there was a certain amount of privacy he would like to have. And since Leonard had continued to refuse to allow any physical affection more active than light kisses, Spock found it easier to mostly sleep in his own bed.

Jim reluctantly agreed with his assessment. It made sense even though Jim didn't like the fact.

_One year later_ Leonard and Nyota's house across the pasture was finished, and they moved in. The floor plan was an intriguing mix of modern and traditional, everyone agreeing that it was most suitable for the McCoy-Uhura household. Their wedding was scheduled for the end of May, to be held on the beach. Chillie and the Ice Floes had happily agreed to play for the reception/clam bake to be held afterward, glad to be included in the festivities.

Spock moved into Jim's house shortly after Leonard and Nyota moved into theirs. Spock had slept over with Jim when they were both at home, their missions taking them to separate locations all too often. The Consortium would not assign them together, as was standard procedure.

After Jim and Spock had been _together _for six months, Jim convinced Spock to bond them in the Vulcan manner. Spock's only hesitation was that they could be distracted while on a mission, but once he realized that Jim's barriers were nearly flawless, he joyfully bonded them. Jim was flooded with love and inspiration and the wonderful _essence_ that was all Spock. Spock felt equally blessed to have Jim's continual presence with him, although he had to occasionally reinforce his own barriers against Jim's incredible imagination. Spock finally understood what it meant to be a writer, to hear from the characters, all of whom were unquestionably real to the author.

Jim tried hard not to impose his characters on Spock but did not always succeed. And it turned out that being bonded to Spock made his Vulcan characters come alive in ways that even Jim could not have accomplished otherwise.

Spock, with Marjorie's help, finally convinced Jim to publish a slim volume of his poetry which was received with much acclaim. The _New York Times_ called his poetry surprisingly elegant and accomplished. Jim didn't know whether to be pleased by their evaluation or insulted by it. Spock and Marjorie assured him that they meant it as high praise indeed. Jim politely refused Oprah's offer to promote his poetry on her show, promising that _absolutely_ he would appear when his _Vulcan Memoir_ was published.

_One and a half years_ _later_ Nyota gave birth to twins. The beautiful little girl, who looked just like her mother, they named JoAnna, and her precious little brother they named David, after Leonard's father. Pavel and Hikaru practically moved into the Uhura-McCoy house, declaring the babies their responsibility as much as they were Leonard and Nyota's. Everyone knew better than to argue.

The twins were never short baby-sitters, Uncle Jim and Uncle Spock the frequent recipient of their visits. The babies loved being with their Uncles but Leonard was of the opinion that had more to do with Shakespeare and Chaucer than Jim and Spock. Jim just ignored him and kidnapped the babies any time he could get away with it.

Winona had built her a little cottage in the corner of Jim's property, away from the beach but close enough. Her house was on the opposite side of a small rise so Jim never knew if she was home or not. He especially did not know if she was home _alone_ or not. Which was the exact way Winona and Chris wanted it.

_Two years later_, Spock entered their bedroom to find Jim leaning up against the headboard, Shakespeare and Chaucer wagging at his entry. Jim looked up from his laptop to smile at his bondmate, happy to have him home, even though Spock had only been at the Consortium Offices all day. Jim was on temporary sabbatical in order to finish the final edits of _Vulcan Memoir._

"What's that?" Jim asked, pointing at the huge red envelope that Spock was holding.

"An invitation," Spock said, his amusement barely contained.

"To what? It's ginormous."

"It is an invitation to the premier of _Inadvertently Brilliant_ in New York City," Spock told him, handing him the folder.

"Oh dear God. You are kidding," Jim said, opening it to look at the elaborate enclosures.

"I am not. It is next weekend. We will be accommodated in the Four Seasons New York. That is where the stars of the movie are also staying."

"You may be staying there. I have no intention of going," Jim informed him, shaking his head in further emphasis.

"You know that you have no choice. Chris warned you that this would be one of the requirements."

"And I told him I wouldn't go," Jim pointed out. "I said they could make the movie it but I wanted no part of it."

Spock shook his head, sitting on the bed next to Jim to lean over and kiss him. "You must go. It is what is done."

"Whenever have I done the expected?" Jim asked, petting Shakespeare who was determined to wedge himself between his daddies. "Get down, Shakes," Jim ordered, the dog doing it to lay next to Chaucer on their rug.

"We will go to New York. You will be treated like a celebrity. You will meet the stars and act appropriately humble and appreciative."

"Nope," Jim said, shaking his head again.

"T'hy'la," Spock said in a mix of warning and coaxing. "You know you do not truly have a choice."

Jim sighed at that, reaching over for the phone. "Hey."

"Jim," Chris responded with a laugh. "I take it Spock gave you the invitation."

"I'm not going," Jim declared.

"Yes you are. I've already told them you'll be there. Chillie and Sherry are going. Since it's his soundtrack. Winona and I are going. Leonard and Nyota are going. The babies are staying with Pavel and Hikaru."

"Hikaru should have to come. He's First Research Assistant."

"He's not the author. I gave him permission to stay with Jo-Jo and Davie."

"I hate you. I never told you before, but I hate you," Jim claimed.

"Now, Jim. That's no way to talk," Chris said with a laugh. "Winona will have your new tuxedo in three days. Spock already has his. We're flying up on Wednesday and coming back Tuesday."

Jim sighed, frowning at the phone. "You're fired."

"All right. Doesn't change the fact that you have no choice but to go to New York," Chris told him.

"You can't tell me what to do when I've fired you," Jim protested.

"You are welcome to fire me. But you still work for me. Did you conveniently forget that?" Chris asked, still laughing at him.

"Oh. Yeah. Okay, fine. I'll go. But I refuse to be happy about it," Jim said.

"All right. _Access Insider_ can show pictures of you pouting. That will endear you to your faithful."

"I don't pout," Jim claimed.

"Yes you do," Spock and Chris said simultaneously.

"That's not nice," Jim said. "You have to make it up to me."

"I have no intentions of it," Chris told him, laughing.

"I was talking to Spock. I am hanging up on you," Jim said.

"Say good night, Jim," Chris said, laughing when Jim did it.

"You'll make it up to me, right?" Jim asked when he had disconnected with Chris, smiling at Spock in such a way that always got him what he wanted. At least from Spock.

"How could I possibly refuse you anything?" Spock asked, carefully moving Jim's laptop out of the way before soothing any hurt feelings Jim was willing to pretend to have.


End file.
